


A Fate Unclaimed

by BrittySauce



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Really Character Death, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Psychological Torture, Slow Burn, Threats of Violence, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 05:59:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 25,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16804849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrittySauce/pseuds/BrittySauce
Summary: Lance McClain, the only unclaimed camper left at Camp Half Blood, a summer camp for demigod warriors. He's spemt the better half of almost a decade looking above his head and waiting for a claiming sigil to appear. With no such luck.But it's fine.He's okay being unclaimed, he doesn't need his godly parent. All he needa is his faithful and loyal friends standing beside him. What he doesn't need is two demigods Lance knows personally crumbling half dead at the camp doorstep so to speak. Which is then followed by a prophecy, and not a very kind sounding one either. Now Lance is roped into a quest he wanted no part of, to save the gods who never wanted him in the first place, and be a hero like he was born to be.Easy peasy right?





	1. Stumbling Blind

Deep breaths. 

In and out. In and out. In and out. 

Lance zeroed in on his target, a regular training dummy not too far away. It was one of few things he could focus solely on, his ADHD usually making his thoughts jump around like they were high on drugs. It was relaxing really, letting himself forget for a few hours. Forget that he was a demigod, forget his unclaimed status. 

Forget the dwindling hope that surges in his chest at every campfire, after every victory in combat, after every accomplishment Lance makes. Makes him forget how that hope dies a little more every time he glances upward to find the space above his head empty of a god’s claim. 

His arrow flies, nailing dead center, splitting yet another arrow in half. 

His breath releases slowly as he reaches to draw another, finding his shoulder quiver empty and dropping to his left hip quiver instead. He put three on that day, forgoing armor because it would all weigh him down just a bit too much. 

Archers need to be flighty, light footed. They needed to be able to move as quick as an arrow. Every movement should be calculated ten steps before hand. They didn’t have the luxury of being able to stop and think. In battle, the archer is defenseless in close combat. Sure, most archers carry swords or daggers just in case, but they don’t hone that skill as finely as they tune their aim. 

Lance could wield a sword.

He just prefers a bow.

His arrow flies true right down the center of his previous arrow. Lance breathes a sigh as he slowly dwindled down his arrows again. When his last quiver was empty, and his hand was grasping at air, he let his muscles relax. They burned from the effort of holding and drawing a bow so many times without pause. 

His bow, a gift from Apollo himself, dangling from his fingertips and his head bowed, Lance headed to leave the arena. He looked up in time to spot one of his best friends standing at the entrance of the practice arena, a frown on his face and creased eyebrows. 

Hunk was a godsend on this Earth. Son of Hephaestus, councilor for his cabin, and a sweetheart beyond measure. His form was big, almost hulking, and equally as soft. There was grease stains around his kind eyes and on his arms which were lifted so Hunk could fold his hands together and over each other nervously. Lance plastered a smile on his face to ease Hunk’s worry. 

Deep breaths.

Hunk didn't say a word, as Lance prefers it in that moment. He simply wrapped an arm around Lance's shoulders as they walked back to their respective cabins, Hephaestus and Hermes. It was pretty late, long after tonight's campfire dinner, and since noon Lance had been in that arena. 

Felt like minutes.

It was a wonder why Hunk even came to check on him as late as it was. The harpies could have dragged Hunk to the Big House to get in trouble for being out past curfew. It warmed his heart that Hunk would risk it anyways. 

"It'll be alright buddy." Hunk whispered. It was so quiet that Lance would have believed it if someone told him he imagined it. A solemn promise carried away by the wind of the night it seems. 

Lance huffed a quiet laugh as they ducked around one of the buildings for a shortcut. 

"Thanks." Lance replied. Perhaps if it weren't so quiet, Lance wouldn't have heard the commotion. They shared a look, him and Hunk, before dashing to the border. Lance already had his bow out and ready to fight. The blood curdling roar of a monster sent practically everyone else racing out of their cabins and towards the border of camp. Lance was leading the charge. 

It was just as he rounded the hill that his blood ran cold. 

Two forms, blurry in the dark, limping and stumbling over each other. A gleam of metal, a flash of a blade. Lance couldn't even tell what the monster was supposed to be, as it was already fizzling out in the dirt. 

Chiron and Coran raced past the stunned crowd, and some Apollo cabin campers went to help. Lance stayed stock still, ice in his veins. The two forms were guided past the boundary, and a single voice shot out over the crowd. 

"Save him,” they said, obviously male and young. When the newcomers collapsed, Lance caught the flash of wild black hair, messy and knotted. He sucked in a quiet breath, the calm of the night descending into abrupt chaos, before letting his breath out shakily.

He would know that mullet anywhere. 

His heart began to race, a feeling of dread like ice in his veins. He didn't think he knew the unconscious person, but he knew the fighter. He knew that head of dark hair and his curious blade, and he knew what it meant for the camp. 

Keith. 

It was like a curse when Lance and Keith were near each other. Keith probably didn't even remember him, but Lance never forgets a face. Names? Yes. Most things he was taught in school? Definitely. But faces? Not a chance. Keith was Lance's bane of disaster. Every time, every single time, bad things happened when Keith was around. And this time would be no different, in fact it might just be worse. Especially since Keith turned out to be a demigod.

Lance turned on his heel, the movement sharp enough to make some of the people crowding around freeze and back away in shock. He thundered past the crowd, shouldering aside anyone who stood in his way. He didn't want to help, but someone needed to prepare the infirmary.


	2. Bedtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Coran talk.

Lance had gone to the infirmary first, shortly trailed after by Coran, Chiron, and a few campers. Chiron had Keith slung over his back, and Coran had the unconscious man in a dead man carry. Held in his arms securely, but drowning beneath the size of the man.

Coran’s ward was laid down first, and Lance assisted Coran in getting the man situated. It was a long moment before Lance recognized who lay unconscious in one of the infirmary beds. Takashi Shirogane, or better known as Shiro to the campers. He was a powerful demigod, son of Zeus himself. Shiro was a hero of heroes, a guiding light in dark travels, and compassion in the face of fear.

But Shiro had certainly changed in his absence.

Lance remembered the day camp lost contact with Shiro and his quest partners. The panic, the fear, the dread. It was suffocating, and that was just from the campers who knew of Shiro. But those who were close, those who were truly part of the missing heros’ lives? 

The impact was devastating.

Shiro’s dark hair was longer in one clump, which was normal, but since being gone the hair in that clump was stained white, like the purest of snow. A scar, long, thin, and obviously a lot better now than when it was received ran across his nose and cheekbones. The cut was deep, splitting skin like a valley on Shiro’s face. Of course, what probably had most people in the room stopping to stare was the metal arm prosthetic. 

The metal was dark, definitely not celestial bronze, and ribbed almost, as if it could extend outwards. Lance leaned closer as if hypnotized, and when inches away he felt it. A resounding throb in the air, a pulsing of energy that is very clearly magic. Dark magic, and unstable as well. 

The work done on this arm was not by a trained witch of the Hecate cabin. 

“No more staring.” Coran said. His voice snapped the tension in the stillness of the room, and like a rubbing band it retracted back and continued in its activity. Lance saw Keith laid down in the corner of his eye on a bed two beds down. He looked away and back to Shiro.

Lance helped out as much as possible before his presence became hindering, and with his own departure via Coran’s gentle suggestion, he ushered out all of the other lookie loos. Lance planted himself by the door when the room was cleared of anyone unnecessary and stood guard for the hour it took for Coran and the rest to be done saving lives. 

The door opened behind Lance and he turned to look at the tired crowd of five or six. 

Coran stopped by Lance’s side while everyone else trudged off to the Apollo cabin, sharing yawns and quiet words. Probably gossip. Coran turned to Lance when they were alone and Lance looked into tired amber eyes. Even Coran’s mustache was drooping in sleepiness, which never happens. 

“What,” Coran asked slowly, but not unkindly. “Are you still doing here my boy? Go get some rest why don’t you?” Lance scoffed, rolling his eyes and slipping into the infirmary. It was a stroke of luck that Shiro and Keith were the only two residents for the night. Lance made sure to lower his voice when he replied.

“Because if I do, then you’ll be the one staying up all night to keep an eye on the patients.” Lance said, ribbing Coran in the side to make him to stop frowning. “Go get sleep doc, it’s my turn to stay up all night.” Coran’s small smile dropped into a scowl with a lot more tiredness than bite.

“You know I hate it when you call me that Lance.” 

“Hey,” Lance fired back with a smile, already grabbing a seat on the bed between the two patients. He leaned back with a stretch. “I’m not the one who actually got a degree in medical stuff.” He shooed Coran with a wave lazily, who responded in kind with a kick to the foot still dangling off the bed.

“Fine, but only because I know they will be fine in the morning.”

“Yeah, that’s why.” Lance said sarcastically. “Good night Doc, sweet dreams.” Coran flipped him off as he left and Lance chuckled quietly. He settled himself down as comfortably as possible and started counting down the minutes until the sun rises. He definitely would rather just watch over Shiro. He hated Keith’s guts too much to actually want to stay.


	3. Childish Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith wakes up and starts a fight.

Lance is starting to doze off on the bed in the infirmary.

He knows this, and he knows Coran would be disappointed if he came in to check on the patients in the morning just to find their night watchmen passed out and drooling. Which he definitely does _not_ do. Lance knows he’s drifting into a long craved slumber, but there’s nothing he can do about it. 

It’s kind of weird actually.

Lance has always had terrible sleep during the months he spends in camp. Coran once asked if Lance had insomnia or something like that, and Lance was too embarrassed to tell him the truth. At home, with his adopted family, it’s always loud. Day, night, summer or fall, holidays and birthdays and regular days as well. It is _always_ loud. In the day, more often than not it’s because of the half dozen kids and half dozen teenagers rampaging across the house like demons. Or so his Ma has said over and over again. At night, it's his family's collective snoring and sleep talking and midnight trips to the kitchen. 

At camp it gets too quiet at night to sleep, but he's falling asleep perfectly fine next to Keith and Shiro.

Lance smiles sleepily, eyes closed against his will at the thought of his kid brothers and sisters and cousins driving his Ma up the wall. Lance was never like that, even _after_ he was acclimated to the family he loves. Mostly because he refused to give his Ma and Pa reason to toss Lance out on the streets, like he believed his birth parents did for the longest time.

Whether his godly parent was male or female didn’t matter, because they would have abandoned him anyways. As per the law of the gods. And even when arriving at camp they still refuse to lay claim to him. Even if they have to, ever since the war was won about a decade ago. A demigod of the Big Three apparently demanded it as his reward for his heroics or something like that.

But his mortal parent is the one he means by _throwing him out._

The earliest memory Lance had was of an orphanage, surrounded by kids and teenagers just like him. Abandoned little ones, survivors of terrible accidents, or kids left on the doorstep as a baby. Lance got lucky when the McClains’ adopted him. He doesn't know what happened to his mortal parent, whether they died in an accident, abandoned him of their own free will, or, if his mortal parent was his mother, died in childbirth. He just doesn't know. And he's lucky he has the obnoxious noise and nosiness of his adopted family to run away the depressing thoughts it brings. 

Lance straightens with a jolt when there is a gasp beside him.

His first reaction when his eyes snap open is to look at Shiro, who still lays unconscious to his left. Shiro might have once passed as peaceful with the look on his face, but that scar was scrunched up with the subtle tightness of the skin. Probably a nightmare. Poor guy.

Lance looks to his right towards Keith, and almost scrambles out of bed in shock. Keith was not only awake, he was standing on his bed with that blade of his drawn. His back was pressed against the wall, chest heaving with loud breaths. Violet eyes drowned in shadows darted around the room and quickly came to land on Lance.

Lance stands up from the bed, the blanket falling from it’s tangled state around his knees to a tangled state around his feet. He lifts his hands in a placating gesture, aware he was treating Keith like a wild animal ready to pounce. Too sleepy to act his usual cocky self. Probably wouldn’t work on Keith anyways, the guy is as dense as a rock and as hostile as an erupting volcano.

“Easy Keith, your safe now. Put down the knife.” Lance said, fighting to keep up his calm appearance and not let it bleed into annoyance. He quickly untangled his feet and moved to stand on the other side of the bed to guard Shiro in case Keith got it into his head to attack. 

Keith doesn’t respond, but those violet eyes narrow so much Lance can’t make the color out anymore. Like a cat, Keith eases off the bed, keeping his blade high and stance strong. For someone who has never been to Camp Half Blood before, Keith looks like he really knows how to wield a blade.

Lance flashes back to that night to try and remember what Claim Keith got, if any. It clicks in his head like a picture. _Two figures, blurry and stumbling over each other. A gleam of metal, a flash of a blade. Dark messy hair matted on top of a familiar face. And above that head the claim of Ares._ Lance must have been too distracted to notice. Seems just like him to not notice a glowing Claim when it was all he searched for above his own head.

“Who are you? Where are we?” Keith asks, or rather he _demands._ Keith steps forward, close enough for that dagger to be inches from Lance’s face. “Are you a threat?” He asks with narrow eyes. Lance wants to laugh in this idiot’s face. Keith is the one holding a dagger to his face, and he thinks _Lance_ is the threatening figure in this situation? Then he realizes that Keith must not recognize him, which is stupid, because of _course_ he remembers Lance. 

_Right?_

“Uh. The names Lance?” Lance replied, a very ‘duh’ tone in his voice. 

Keith raises an eyebrow blankly, and Lance scowls. This guy doesn’t even remember him. What an asshole! He slowly moves his right hand and presses the blade lightly away from between his eyes. Keith doesn’t even move, just stares at Lance incredulously. Lance watches as those violet eyes widen, narrow and widen again, as if Keith was having one of those _‘Epiphany! Wait no nevermind. Epiphany! Wait I forgot’_ moments. 

Quite entertaining if you ask Lance.

“Move away from Shiro or I attack.” Keith says, voice almost deadly calm, but even Lance could hear the faint shakiness to his voice. He accentuates this threat by moving his blade back up where Lance had moved it from, so quickly Lance leaned back on reflex, annoyance now turned up to eleven.

“Dude, you were the one who came stumbling into camp with Shiro.” Lance crossed his arms in a huffing manner, not really concerned with the dagger in his face. He rolled his eyes when Keith shifted. “Both of you were half dead, you’re lucky you didn’t die at the border just from exhaustion.” Keith scoffed.

“If you mean Camp Half Breed, then I don’t buy it. Shiro told me that this camp was full of warriors.” Keith looks him over slowly, feet to head and locking eyes with Lance. “You don’t exactly fit the term if you ask me.”

Even Lance feels it when he puff up like a preening peacock trying to assert its dominance. “First of all _jackass,_ it’s Camp Half _Blood.”_ Lance says, leaning forward enough that Keith draws his dagger away so Lance doesn’t poke his own eye out. “Second of all, I don’t need to be built like a bodybuilder on _drugs_ to be a warrior!” Keith visibly becomes pissed, blowing air through his nose like a bull before they go rampaging.

“I do not use _drugs-”_

“Coulda fooled me!”

Keith bows his body and puffs out his chest and the dagger lowers. “Why you little-” Keith says. He doesn’t even finish his sentence before he lunges forward, the dagger dropping to the floor forgotten. Lance is unprepared, and Keith slams into him, hard. Lance just barely makes it to where they drop to the floor instead of on top of Shiro, who is currently _injured_ and _unconscious._

They smack audibly to the floor, Keith on top of Lance, though not for long. Because as soon as Lance sucks in a breath he’s grappling against Keith and suddenly they’re wrestling around on the floor like he used to do with his brothers. Up until he started getting trained as a demigod and became too scared of hurting them. 

Keith knees him in the stomach and regains control. Then loses it as Lance yanks those long black strands of matted hair back. It goes on like this for several minutes. Both of them just cursing, grappling, struggling and shouting. Keith nails him on the lip, and Lance returns the favour to his eye. Keith clocks him in the stomach and Lance retaliates with a knee to the groin. 

Keith somehow restrains Lance face to floor with an arm twisted behind his back when they get interrupted.

The door to the infirmary cabin slams open, and morning light falls through the opening. Lance had forgotten that he closed the curtains. Standing in the doorway are Coran and Chiron. Coran looks as clean and put together as always, his red hair streaked back and speckled with blonde, his mustache combed and curly. Even his amber eyes were clear and free of bags. 

Chiron looked fresh as a daisy himself. He was in centaur form, his white horse’s coat sleek and shiny. He wore his usual leather armour and a standard bow and quiver on his shoulders. The sunlight bathed both Camp Directors in a warm honey glow. 

Keith and Lance simultaneously freeze. Keith with one hand securing Lance’s arm behind his back at an uncomfortable angle, and the other hand yanking Lance’s head back with a tight grip on his shorter hair. Lance froze in the middle of reaching for the dagger conveniently in front of him with his free hand.

“What,” Chiron said, in no way amused, though Coran sure seemed to be. “Is going on here?”


	4. Prophecies- Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance hangs out in the forest before coming to camp in the middle of a Situation.

Lance kicks a rock that was in his footpath with a grumble. 

After Chiron stood expecting some sort of answer for maybe two minutes, he got irritated. Keith seemed to just be in shock, staring at the horse of the centaur incredulously, his hands still keeping Lance locked face first on the floor. After it became obvious that neither of them were going answer, Chiron marched towards them and yanked Keith off of Lance, setting him on his feet and then picking Lance up to do the same. 

The two of them only had a moment to share a glare, arms crossed, before Chiron kicked him out. 

Lance had been so pissed off and embarrassed that he marched straight through the camp, ignoring everyone, even Hunk, which he would apologize for later. He didn’t even realize where he was going at first, until he was already passing the tree line into the forest filled with monsters. It was kind of forbidden to enter the forest without someone with you because the monsters have been especially dangerous for the past few weeks. 

Lance conveniently ignored this rule before marching deeper into the forest.

He crossed his arms grumpily as he began talking to the tree nymphs that were probably around here somewhere. Or talking to himself really, but the first one didn’t make him sound like a weirdo. He kicked another rock.

His grumblings stumbled to a halt when Lance did, almost running face first into a giant boulder that vaguely looks like a fist. He sighed and started climbing, kind of wishing he had his bow and arrows just in case a monster came crashing through the woods. He laid down when he finally reached the top. 

He almost wanted to take a nap right then and there, on top of the rock, but he knew better than to fall asleep in the forest. He learned that the hard way, even has a few small scars on his back from the claws. The memory made Lance shudder and open his eyes to stare at the sky. 

The rising sun made the sky turn pink and orange.

He sighs, closing his eyes and focusing on the sound of the forest. It’s quiet, peaceful. Lance can hear faint rustling of the natural forest animals as well as whatever monsters or dryads were lurking. He isn’t sure how long he just lays there, listening when it happens.

A wind passes over Lance, and with it the sound of voices. 

He sat up as the wind continued and could hear that the voices were raised as if in a commotion. In a daze he starts walking, and the wind shifts to head back to camp. Lance isn’t sure how he knows, but the winds guide him through the trees back to camp. The walk is shorter somehow, and when he finally steps past the treeline he sees a crowd in the center of camp.

The winds shift again and leave him to walk towards the crowd. 

Almost every camper awake is in the crowd, and Lance has to slowly navigate the many bodies. When he finally reaches the edge of the circle, almost falling out of it, he sees a very strange sight. 

Shiro apparently was awake now. 

The demigod of lightning is kneeling, a girl cradled in his arms with a shock of red hair. Faint green mists lingering around her, which were fading away, suggests that the girl was the infamous Rachel Dare. She’s a mortal woman who inherited the spirit of the Oracle of Delphi a good while back. Behind Shiro was Keith, one hand on Shiro’s shoulders, the other gripping that dagger again. 

Standing opposite of Lance in the crowd were Chiron and Coran, and to the left of Lance at the edge of the crowd was Hunk and Pidge. Everyone was wearing varying expressions of shock, awe, fear, confusion, and for Pidge, determination. Lance’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“What did I miss?” He said.

Practically every eye shot to stare at Lance, all of them looking extremely unprepared for his appearance in the crowd. Makes sense, he did just interrupt what seems like a prophecy. That didn’t mean the stares didn’t make him want to shrink into himself though.

“Uh guys?” Lance tried again, and still no one answered him.


	5. Awkward Silences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is seated at the camp meeting but it doesn't start yet.

After Lance barged in, the camp became a flurry of excitement.

Campers went reluctantly back to training and stuff, while head campers and Lance and Keith were summoned for an emergency meeting in the Big House. Currently everyone was seated around the ping pong table, with the net removed. 

Chiron and Coran both sat at opposing heads of the table, and the rest of the main twelve cabins sat on the sides of the table. Beside Chiron to the right was Shiro, and beside him Keith, sat close to be able to fit. He was glaring hard at everyone around the table, and Lance sometimes caught that glare landing intensely on himself. 

He chose to ignore it in favour of sitting in confusion. 

Lance wasn’t always included in meetings, mainly because he had no actual right to. But Coran was soft on him so he was allowed in when absolutely desired. Most of the time, if he joined, it was because Hunk or Pidge were involved directly. 

Beside Keith was Rolo, head camper for the hermes cabin. He and Lance didn’t exactly get along, but they were cordial. Beside Rolo was Shay, who had shyly traded seats with Rolo when Pidge and Hunk did. She was Demeter cabin representative. Next to her was the Ares head camper, with a name Lance fails to remember, and the same with the Dionysus camper next to her. On Chiron’s left was Allura, who was staring at Shiro with wide eyes. As children of the big three, roughly around the same age as each other, the two of them had been close.

Allura was the daughter of Poseidon, and his chosen champion.

Shiro was the son of Zeus, and chosen champion as well. 

She looked like hell if you asked Lance. Or at least, not quite as spirited, just like when the reports of lost contact spread through camp. Her hair was thrown up in a thick bun, white strands falling in every direction. Her ocean blue eyes were bloodshot and puffy, probably from crying. 

Lance can only imagine what she must feel like in that moment.

She had only gotten into camp last night, after spending a long while with her father in the underwater palace. They were strengthening bonds with other water gods and magical creatures, to ensure peace and unity. 

Allura glanced beside her and locked eyes for a brief moment before breaking contact. Lance set a stabilizing hand on her knee anyways. Once upon a time, it would have been a cheap move on her, but they long since passed the time when Lance would flirt with her endlessly. Now they were just good friends who went for swims together when they were free. 

Next to Lance was Pidge, stand in for the Athena representative. Normally Hunk was in the seat she sat in now, but she asked to trade to be closer to Chiron, and coincidentally in full view of Shiro. Hunk, who now sat on Pidge’s right instead of left, was completely spaced out and blushing mad as he traded glances with the daughter of Demeter. 

Those two were hopeless.

Next to Hunk was Romelle, the pretty Aphrodite daughter. She was nice to look at, but a complete airhead. And on Romelle’s right and the Dionysus boy’s left was obviously Coran, who looked as if he was ready to start giving a speech. Or telling one of his eccentric stories, which half the camp believes are made up. Lance knew better.

After Lance thoroughly looked over the table, he finally got sick of the awkward silence. 

“O-kay,” Lance said, and every pair of eyes in the room darted over to Lance when he spoke. “I know you guys probably know why were brought to this meeting, but I don’t so can we start already?” He ignored the sound of Keith’s scoff, and locked his eyes on Chiron’s figure. He was seated in the magical wheelchair right now. Chiron seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had been caught in and cleared his throat.

“Lance is right, we have no time to waste.” Chiron said, and just like that, the meeting began.


	6. Prophecies Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance finally learns the prophecy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to musicality12_01 and their wonderful comment, instead of going to sleep, I got excited and wrote the next chapter in one sitting. You're welcome. *takes a bow*

“We can’t send more than three demigods out on quest at once! It’s madness!”

Lance leaned forward to draw the Ares head camper’s eye, when Allura’s voice interrupted him.

“What do you want to do then huh? Ignore the prophecy?” She was red in the face, and her bun was even wilder than before, as if she had been electrocuted, due to her hands yanking infuriatingly at her hair. Lance has slapped her hands away too many times to count to keep her from making herself bald. He leaned in again, trying to get attention.

“Yeah right! You can’t ignore a prophecy!” Yelled a very cross Pidge. Her eyes were wide in outrage. She wasn’t the only one yelling now either. At first the meeting had been civil, which lasted about three seconds. Then it became a civil shouting match, taking turns to yell out their opinions across the table. 

Now it was just an all out civil war over a ping pong table.

“Shiro was the one who received the prophecy! We should let him decide!” That was Rolo, grinning wildly in glee at the horrible turn this meeting took. He was even steepling his hands together like an old movie villain.

“Yeah? The same Shiro’s who has been missing for over a year? Lotta good that will do us!” This was the Dionysus kid, who was also just having fun at the meeting’s expense. Lance was mildly curious to know if that drink in the guy’s hand was spiked or not. He waved a hand out across the table to grab attention, but Keith beat him to it.

“Don’t you dare talk about Shiro like that!” Keith yelled, clutching his knife and already raising one foot to step on the table. Probably to use it as a push off platform to leap at the Dionysus kid who leaned back in his chair with what was definitely _not_ a sober grin.

Shiro, thank god, had him by the shoulder the moment he stood up.

Poor Shiro, the guy just came out of a coma or whatever, he looks overwhelmed. Lance would love to help him out, but he can’t seem to get anyone’s attention for his own problems, let alone Shiro’s. Lance tried standing to get attention, but Pidge stood up too and knocked him back into his seat.

“I have to go on this mission! My brother is out there!” She yelled, on the brink of frustrated tears. She doesn’t cry from anything _but_ frustration. Hunk had his hand on her shoulder to gentle coax her back to sitting. He, Coran, and Chiron were all trying to wrangle in the campers before things got out of hand. Shay seemed to be trying as well, but she was a bit too quiet to be overheard. 

Lance felt an eye twitch coming on.

He sighed and stood up, this time too fast to be outdone by someone else, and slammed his hands down hard on the table, coupled with a very loud, “Hey!”. Almost immediately, just like those two times earlier, all eyes turned to him. Hey, at least they shut up right? He cleared his throat and straightened his orange camp shirt with a harsh tug.

“Okay, three things. One, Shiro just woke up from a coma or whatever, stop shouting.” A few people slumped in shame with a glance to Shiro, who gave Lance a relieved look as well. He glared at Rolo and the Dionysus kid in turn. “Two, due to his current state of appearance, I doubt he went MIA on purpose, so cut it out with that shit.” Coran had opened his mouth to scold Lance, but promptly shut it with a pointed look.

“Three, if someone could _please_ tell me what the prophecy said so I won’t be lost in this pissing contest?” He said, pointedly looking at Chiron for this one. Chiron closed his open mouth with a quiet snap and readjusted his blanket.

“Right, sorry lad. Thank you for that.” Chiron said. “Though I don’t believe it is one you would like to hear.”

Lance raised an eyebrow at him and sat back down. When Chiron wouldn’t get the memo he looked to every person at the table in turn. No one would meet his eyes, not even Keith, though that was most likely because he was still glaring at the Dionysus kid. 

“Well?” Lance asked. “We don’t have all day, what was the prophecy?”

Chiron let out a low rumbling sound in the back of his throat but didn’t answer. Simply sat fiddling with his blanket. In the end it was Allura who spoke up. Her voice was soft, and when he glanced at her, she had smoothed back the hair in her face to look just a tad bit neater than before. 

“The Prophecy goes:

_Five heroes with the guide of one._

_Shown the way by the Unclaimed Son._

_Darkness rises by the Hand of Death._

_Child of Three will take last breath._

_Athena child lost to the wind._

_A deadly choice to bring him home again.”_

She swallowed thickly, as if finished, but Lance got the impression that there was more from the silence in the room. Shiro took over for the rest.

_“Before the Solstice shall the war be waged._

_Or the Gods shall fall to the King’s long rage._

_Should the war be lost, not won._

_No more, will be the Unclaimed Son.”_

There was a silence in lance’s head as he processed. Mostly he was kind of stuck on the last line of the prophecy. Lance released a shaky breath when the words seemed to smack him in the face once again. 

“Well, at least I know why everyone was fighting.”


	7. Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They discuss the prophecy's meaning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: If you guys want some insider information on this story, I did two au's before I started writing this! I believe if you read these, then I think you will figure things out a lot easier. Find them below.
> 
> Au 1:  
> https://lance-is-my-heart.tumblr.com/post/178671492462/voltron-headcanons
> 
> Au 2:  
> https://lance-is-my-heart.tumblr.com/post/178761551812/voltron-headcanons

“Alright,” Chiron began after a brief sharing of silence. “Now that everyone has stopped arguing on who will be going on this quest or not, let’s figure out the actual meaning of the prophecy.” Allura cleared her throat, pausing to make sure no one would be interrupting to start another shouting match.

“I believe the first two lines are clear as day. Five heroes will set out on the quest, with someone in camp helping them on their way.” She looked over at Lance, who was just watching wide eyed. He really didn’t like the look in her eyes. 

“And obviously Lance will be the one to begin the quest’s direction. He is after all, the only Unclaimed left.” Her eyes crinkled with an apology that Lance accepted with a nod. He turned his eyes to the table, before closing them completely. He just listened as everyone discussed his fate like it was the weather.

He isn’t sure why there is another brief pause, but he doesn’t care to look to find out.

“The next line of the Prophecy.” Shiro starts in. _“Darkness will rise by the Hand of Death._ Do you think this another ploy of Hades’ to gain control over the Parthenon?” Lance feel eyes on him for a moment but he keeps his eyes closed, replaying the Prophecy over and over again. It was almost like Lance was numb at this point.

He was expected to be a hero, someone to do the bidding of fate and the gods.

Since he was still Unclaimed, Lance has never gone on a quest. Never had the need to either. Hunk and Pidge have both gone on quests, except Pidge chose her quest on her own, which was to search for Matt. But Lance has never gone even as a backup. Everytime a quest is given to someone, they have the choice to bring two other people with them. These days is more of a rule than a choice. But Lance has never been chosen.

“I don’t think it was Hades who is behind this my boy.” Coran said. At the familiar voice, Lance raised his head to look at the older demigod. Coran had eyebrows low, his head ducked to hide his expression. Lance knew that look, he was having a flashback to one of the bad times. 

“What do you mean Coran?” Asked Pidge, her head tilted. Lance glanced from her back to Coran, who slowly let his cool expression pinch. Lance didn’t even think about it when he stood up and walked behind Coran. Lance didn’t hug him or lead him out of the room like he wanted to, but he did place his hands on Coran’s shoulders. They dropped at the pressure. 

Lance leaned forward to whisper in Coran’s ear, quiet so no one could hear.

“You okay?” He asked. Coran nodded slowly. He didn’t straighten up from his hunched figure so Lance didn’t believe him. “Do you need privacy?” He shook his head and Lance resigned himself to following Coran’s lead. He squeezed Coran’s shoulders before going back to his seat, keeping sharp eyes on Coran as he straightened up. 

“Coran? Explain?” Allura asked, voice as soft as ever. 

“It is nothing my dear, just a hunch. Moving on?” 

Reluctantly they all looked away from Coran who still sat tense and distracted. Lance kept his eyes on Coran, ignoring looks thrown his way, and narrowed his eyes to glare at Coran. Finally Coran got the hint and looked up. His amber eyes were haunted and glassy but after a moment they cleared up. Lance gave him a small smile which was returned if the slight shake of his orange mustache had anything to say. 

Lance remembered dying Coran’s hair when the man was wasted one night, and he just stuck with it. Dyed his hair every time the blonde or gray started peaking through, or at least had Lance do it for him.

Lance broke eye contact and looked to Chiron like everyone else.

“The next line worries me.” Chiron said. _“Child of three will take last breath.”_

Allura and Shiro shared a look of resignation and turned to Chiron to say, simultaneously, “I’ll go.” They then shared a glare at each other.

“Shiro, you are injured.” 

“Not anymore, and I was the one given the prophecy, not you.”

Keith whipped his head to glare at Shiro. “I’m with Allura on this one.” 

“You are too biased on the subject Keith, I’m going.” Shiro said, crossing his arms as naturally as could be possible, given the whole metal arm thing. Keith reared back to probably start another shouting match. Rolo and the Dionysus kid both leaned forward eagerly to watch it unfold but Lance cut in before they could.

“No fighting. Let’s just move on.” Lance cut in, continuing quickly to avoid another argument. “The Athena child, I agree with Pidge on this one. The Prophecy has to mean Matt, but who makes this deadly choice is beyond me.” Pidge slipped a hand on Lance’s knee, balled up into a fist. Lance reached down to lock pinkies together. Whenever Pidge gets upset, she doesn’t like physical contact very much. Holding pinkies was the best way Lance could physically comfort her without smothering her in hugs she didn’t appreciate.

Hunk, finally, stopped making goo-goo eyes at Shay and raised a hand to put his two cents in. 

“The Solstice is a week and a half away, it isn’t much time to stop a war or wage one.” Hunk said, his voice strong, but his hands wringing together nervously. “And I don’t think anyone wants the gods angry again.”

“Someone does, or this Prophecy wouldn’t exist.” Keith said, arms crossed and a scowl on his lips. “And let’s not forget the last two lines. If we lose against this unknown enemy, Lance will die.”

Keith’s delivery was blunt and forced half the table to flinch, including Lance himself. Lance felt his heart drop again, slipping into the floor and running away from him.

“Good riddance I say.” Keith continued. It was a mumble, but in the quiet room, it was clear as day. Lance felt his heart come back with a vengeance as anger surged. He couldn’t help himself when he launched over the table far more successfully than Keith did. 

He and Keith tumbled to the floor again, and started grappling against each other just like they did that morning. Lance had the bruises to prove it, and so did Keith. Lance only managed to get a punch in before Shiro was on him with frown.

“Take a walk! The both of you!” He yelled. Lance huffed and stormed out of the Big House, glad to finally be out of that tiny room. He headed towards the archery range, stopping by Hermes Cabin to grab his special bow and arrow quiver.

Usually he had them open and ready to use, but when they transform to look inconspicuous, the quiver became a necklace, and the arrow turned into a golden ring. They were both golden, much like the god who gifted them to him. Lance didn’t stop moving until he had his target set up in the middle of a large area. He began circling it to shoot while moving. 

He didn’t feel better until his first arrow was launched.


	8. Emotional Crises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's POV, after the fight.

Keith grumbled as he was dragged out of the Ping Pong table meeting by Shiro, but didn’t fight it. He was glad to finally have some time alone to talk to Shiro. Although, now he was kind of wishing he hadn’t said anything about Lance’s part of the prophecy. Not just because he didn’t want a dad lecture, but because he actually felt kind of bad.

It was an act of anger, and Keith regretted saying it the moment before Lance launched over the table and attacked him.

Shiro had him by the arm, his human hand not his metal one. They went deeper into the Big House, and he assumed Shiro knew what he was doing and where they were, because Keith sure as hell didn’t.

They finally stopped in what looked like a storage room full of boxes.

Shiro whirled around on him and Keith stepped back out of instinct, recoiling from the anger on his face. Keith hasn’t seen him get that angry since, well, never actually. Keith shrunk into himself in hame when Shiro crossed his arms, effectively shutting Keith out. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Shiro asked, though his tone didn’t seem to warrant an answer, but he did anyways.

“I’m sorry okay, I was just,” Keith trailed off trying to find the right words to describe the emotions in his chest. Anger, frustration, bitterness? None of them seemed to fit quite right. Shiro didn’t wait for Keith to figure out his own emotions before going off on him. 

“’Just’, what? Insulting a friend of mine? Making him feel like an idiot, like he was useless? Ruining any chance at friendship with literally the kindest person in this entire camp?” Shiro said. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Keith tugged at his sleeve by his wrist. They had given him a new pair of clothes after Keith’s fight with Lance that morning, a long sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. The shirt was so big the sleeves engulfed his hands if he let them. He rubbed at a bruise forming on his wrist that was probably from the fight this morning.

“I don’t know,” He answered, as candidly as possible. “Everyone was yelling, and making you upset and I got upset and then I guess I just,” He trailed off again.

“Just told the only person who stood up for me against the entire meeting you thought he was better off dead? The only person who shut them all up when you just made things worse?” Shiro said, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow. Keith shrunk into himself just a little bit more.

“I’m sorry. I just, I’m sorry Shiro.” 

Shiro sighed deeply and unfolded his arms to rub at his forehead with his metal hand. When his eyes reopened they weren’t mad, but disappointed, which honestly, was _far_ worse. Keith felt his heart ache. He hated to disappoint Shiro, not after he saved Keith’s life.

“What happened in the year that I went missing to make you act like this?” Shiro asked, his expression morphing into anguish. Okay, correction, _this_ was the worst. Shiro blaming himself for Keith’s horrible actions was definitely _not_ what Keith wanted to happen.

“It wasn’t you I swear. I,” He paused, and this time Shiro gave him a few moments to collect the words to express how he was feeling. “I was angry, and scared this morning. Seeing you lying there with a stranger putting himself between us,” Keith sucked in harshly. 

“I wasn’t thinking. After you woke up, and that weird green glowy girl, and then Lance barging in uninvited, and then all the shouting. It was just,” Keith huffed when he still lost the words he wanted to say. Shiro put his human hand on Keith’s shoulder, then yanked him forward in a hug. Keith probably was supposed to do something with his arms other than hanging them by his side, but he was frozen in place. Shiro pulled back after a few moments, but he didn’t seem as if he was awkward with the one sided hug.

“I understand Keith.” 

_Really? Because I don’t,_ Keith thought to himself.

“I think you need to go apologize to Lance now, rather then letting it fester.” Shiro said, before leaning his head down and touching their foreheads together. Now this, this was an affection Keith could understand. He lifted his hand to brace against Shiro’s neck, like his father (or step father now, it seems) used to always do.

Guess Shiro was right, he really _should_ apologize.

Keith started to walk away, but Shiro fell into step to guide him back to the front of the Big House. They kept walking in silence, Keith a step behind to follow Shiro’s lead. He got the feeling Shiro might know where Lance was.

They stopped outside of what looked like a miniature Colosseum made of wood. It was still pretty big, but Keith knew the real deal was at least ten times larger. Shiro left him at the entrance.

“Archery range.” He had said, before leaving keith and heading back the direction they had come from. Keith took a deep breath and determinedly walked inside, footsteps as light as a feather. It was better if Keith didn’t let Lance know he was there immediately, so he had a chance to gauge Lance’s mood. 

Not that it would be much help.


	9. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith POV, he apologizes.

Keith pressed himself into the shadows when he saw that Lance was alone.

There was a log like target in the center of the tiny colosseum. This probably wasn’t the archery range, but Lance sure had no qualms of making it one. The log target was packed full of arrows. Some were on the very top, some about eye level, some close to the ground, some were even split in half by another arrow. 

Keith leaned forward to get a better look, pressing his hand against the wall.

Lance was dancing around the open area, keeping his aim locked on the log target. He threw in a few flips and bends and awkward angles every few shots, and with the amount of arrows lodged in the wood, you would think he would have ran out of them by now. But he didn’t. He just kept shooting.

Keith watched for as long as it took for Lance to notice him. 

The moment Lance spotted him, all movement stopped. He did a sort of jerky motion with his shoulder and hand, the ones holding his quiver and bow, and suddenly they dematerialized into nothing. Keith caught his breath in shock, before pushing it away.

He’s seen monsters his entire life, fought nearly as long too. He’s been through hell and back, without Shiro, then with Shiro, then without him again until they met this last time after Shiro went missing. He’s pretty sure the biker dude with eyes of lifeless fire who sometimes found him and helped him out a little was a god, or at the very least a very powerful being. And he handled those encounters well enough. But the moment Lance made his bow and quiver disappear with magic, he feels his brain shortfuse. 

“What do _you_ want?” Lance asked as he crossed the couple of feet to stand in front of Keith with arms crossed and a deadly glare to match. _This_ was the camp’s nicest person? Keith doubted that severely. He cleared his throat and straightened to his full height.

He brought to mind all those months of Shiro trying to teach him how to communicate through body language. So keith kept his form loose, his feet in a very non-defensive or offensive stance, but also a very weak one. His arms felt awkward by his side, but he didn’t want to close himself off by crossing his arms like Lance. He also didn’t want to look like an asshole, though that feat would be very difficult to master.

“I wanted to apologize.” Keith said, just deciding to bite the bullet. “So, I’m sorry.” 

Lance raised his eyebrows, either in a very ‘you gotta try harder’ look, or a very ‘surprised but pleased’ look. Keith was eighty percent positive it was the first one though. Lance shifted his feet from his sort of slouch, leaning on his left hip instead of standing even between his feet. Okay, correction, Keith was seventy-seven percent positive it was the first one.

Lance didn’t say anything else, so Keith just started to turn away.

He hesitated though, half facing lance, half facing freedom, when Lance scoffed. Keith fought every instinct in him yelling at him to flee. Despite his good fighting skills (according to Shiro anyways) Keith always felt more of the flight response than the fight response. It probably didn’t help that he was kind of shorter than Lance.

“What? That’s it? That’s all you got?” Lance said, with a higher tone than Keith remembered from the first time Lance asked him something after spotting him. Couldn’t decipher what that tone meant though, so he decided to assume it was bad.Keith turned to face Lance again, this time crossing his arms and shifting back into his familiar defensive stance.

“Yeah, what else is there to say?” Keith replied, though he wasn’t happy about his own tone of voice. Kind of insecure, kind of confused, kind of defensive. He immediately wanted to retract what he said, because apparently it wasn’t right. He could tell because of the clear irritation on Lance’s face, although even that was different. 

_Maybe softer around the edges?_ Hopefully.

Keith couldn’t decide on his response in time before Lance was shaking his head and walking away. “Some things never change.” He said. Keith watched in confusion as Lance stretched his arms above his head and began rubbing his biceps. 

Which drew Keith’s eye unintentionally.

His shoulders started to drop, as he realized that he mucked it all up. He didn’t want Lance to angry at him, he just wanted to put it all behind them. Shiro obviously trusts him, probably with his life, so Keith wanted to as well. Maybe learn about a Shiro before all this bullshit started happening. 

Lance stopped a few feet away, his back still to Keith, and looked over his shoulder as he stretched his arms.

“You coming or not hothead?” Lance said. Normally, Keith would associate insults as anger, and respond promptly. But the smile on Lance’s face changed the meaning to something Keith didn’t understand. _Maybe he didn’t mess up after all._ He hesitated only a moment before catching up. They walked side by side in silence to the Big House, the sky darkening as they walked. 

Keith lost his tenseness as the walk stretched on in comfortable silence.


	10. Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance POV.

Lance wasn’t mad.

Okay he was, but he didn’t hate the guy. Okay, maybe a little. But at least Keith had the politeness to at least _attempt_ to apologize. What Keith said in that meeting was rude, and hurtful, and hateful. Sure, they got off on the wrong foot after so much time of not seeing each other. And sure, maybe Lance went a bit too far with his comments.

Keith had been confused, and angry, and scared for his life. And Lance had been what stood between him and Shiro, who Keith is obviously close to. But Keith attacked first that morning, not Lance. Then at the meeting the roles were reversed. Keith provoked and Lance attacked. 

So, Lance was positive forgiveness was possible. 

Didn’t mean he couldn’t stay pissed for as long as possible too. 

Although if you asked him, it was far more difficult to stay mad at Keith right then, than it was to forgive him. They were walking to the Big House, and Keith looked far more calmer than he had all day. Those fiery purple eyes were focused forward, but his frown was softer, less harsh, less angry. Keith had his right hand settled loosely on the hilt of his knife, which was holstered in a crude leather sheath. 

But he was relaxed. 

Lance didn’t miss the looks thrown their way, watching and staring and whispering. Lord knows what sort of rumors were spreading by now. Knowing Rolo, it would be way off base from the truth. Lance took it upon himself to explain more about the camp and their lineages to Keith.

He kept his voice low as he explained the basic of the Greek myths, that weren’t really myths. 

Keith listened intently, and somehow their path to the Big House beame extended to include every sight of the camp. Lance finished off with the main demigods known in camp. They paused in front of the campfire, which wasn’t going to be lit for dinner for another hour.

“I have a question.” Keith said. “Or a few.”

Lance gestured for him to go ahead.

“Alright. What does ‘unclaimed’ actually mean? Why did Shiro disappear for so long? What’s up with this whole prophecy business, surely we can choose our own paths without it right? And also, what kind of magic did you use to make your bow and quiver disappear and where can I learn it?” Keith asked, hardly breathing between words. 

Lance blinked and looked away before answering. The unclaimed thing was a painful subject for Lance, but Keith had a right to know what he was saying before he did. Although, he had already done damage in that respect.

“You know how everyone has their godly parent?” Lance asked, Keith nodded. “The gods claim their children by the sigils over their heads, and that tells you what cabin you will be put in and who you are as a demigod.”

Lance moves to take a seat in front of the fire pit, leaning his chin on his hands.

“A long while ago, there was a war, which would have ended everything as we knew it. The gods nearly lost, but a few demigods changed the outcome of the war, and were granted a request each. One demanded that all demigods be claimed, and all gods, no matter how minor, have a cabin to stay in that wasn’t the Hermes cabin.” Lance toed the ground in front of him.

“Before that war, only half of all demigods were claimed. It was normal, though not any less painful, for kids to be unclaimed their entire lives. Not anymore. I’m the last unclaimed alive. It’s painful to know that whoever my godly parent is, they don’t want me. It’s why I get testy when people bring it up, like in the meeting.”

Keith moved into Lance’s line of sight and hesitated before sitting on the log beside Lance, making sure to stay out of his space. Keith looked so tense and remorseful with how tense and withdrawn he looked. Lance looked back at the fire pit.

“We don’t don’t know why Shiro disappeared for over a year, didn’t even know he was still alive until you showed up dragging him half dead into camp. And the prophecy aren’t absolute, they aren’t even always as plain they seem. Prophecies are flexible, they are just warnings given before quests, pretty much.” Lance said. he smiled when he continued, finally getting on to a subject he actually liked. 

He drew his bow and quiver from their dormant states and rubbed lightly over the golden surface. The texture is like polished wood, but there must be celestial bronze in their somewhere because the bow itself can harm monsters. The design was elegant and detailed. Lance has spent years studying his bow’s designs, and he swears they change. 

Sometimes they look like chariots and suns, a sign of Apollo. Other times, owls and books for Athena, or nuts and bolts for Hephaestus. Sometimes wheat for Demeter, or lightning bolts for Zeus. And doves for Aphrodite, waves for Poseidon. The design is ever changing. Lance once believed the designs hinted at who his godly parent was, but they change too much and far too often.

Right now they were designs of a battle, probably for Ares, which hasn’t really happened before. 

Lance looks up to look at Keith who was staring at the bow in awe. One of Keith’s hands were raised in the air, as if to touch, before it retreated. Is Keith wearing biker gloves? Lance looks closer at Keith’s hands, and his eyes widen just a bit when he notices a thin layer of celestial bronze on one hand, and iron on the other. 

Gloves to fight both mortals and monsters.

“It isn’t magic. Or at least, not the kind you’re probably thinking of. Most weapons of celestial bronze can transform into ordinary everyday objects. My bow becomes a ring, my quiver a golden chain necklace.” Lance said, looking away from the gloves. He glanced at the sky to see that it was almost dinner time, and Keith had yet to see his new cabin. He stood up and dematerialized his bow and quiver, before reaching down to give Keith a hand up, and he took it.

It felt almost like a peace offering.


	11. Journals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Coran talk.

Lance almost expected to have a dream that night, but he didn’t.

Demigods don’t get dreams, unless they are prophetic or a communication with the gods. It isn’t likely a demigod will have a completely normal dream. And if they do, they’re probably from the Hypnos cabin. But that’s speculation, not fact, so it’s best not to take it at face value. 

Lance didn’t dream, but he sort of wishes he did. 

It was like blinking between sleep and waking after the dinner. Lance, as usual sacrificed his food to Hermes, since the Hermes cabin is where he is staying until being claimed. _If_ he gets claimed that is. He was starting to lose his faith in that prospect of being a demigod. He even traveled to Camp Jupiter, but all he felt was a strong sense of wrongness in his chest.

So Lance knew he was of the Greek myths, not the Roman. 

Lance sat up in bed, moving from being unconscious to conscious in a second. He knew more likely than not, he would have to endure another meeting of the cabin campers and Chiron. At least this time, Lance felt he wouldn’t be starting or ending fights, hopefully. Lance doesn’t even bother with his classes and training and heads straight for the Big House after getting dressed. 

He was the only one there when he walks in, other than Coran and Chiron. 

Chiron shares a heated glance with coran, before he claps Lance on the shoulder and leaves with a strained smile. Guess Coran lost that particular coin toss to see who dealt with him then. Lance walks over, not bothering to say anything. The moment Coran stands with open arms, Lance is sinking into him. 

Coran’s hugs are fatherly, unlike Hunk’s protective ones.

Lance sighs, squeezing coran tight before pulling away first. First rule of hug giving, let the person needing a hug step away first, because you never know how much they really need it. Lance steps back feeling a bit lighter, like some of his worries were taken off him and onto Coran’s shoulders instead. 

“How did you sleep my boy?” Coran asked.

Lance shrugged, slumping into the couch lazily. He knew Coran was stalling the conversation that needed to be said. Lance was appreciative of that, but he knew better than to put things off. 

“Fine I guess.” Lance said. “How’s Shiro?” Okay, just because he knew better, didn’t mean he couldn’t put it off anyways. Coran sat next to him on the couch, turning sideways so his right arm was thrown over the back, and his right leg was folded underneath him. Lance untensed when their knees touched. 

Lance was raised in a large family, all of whom were very touchy and nosy people. It made Lance feel better when he could have physical contact with someone, especially if he was feeling upset. Like now. He really did not want to go on this quest. It’s not that he doesn’t want a quest, because he does, but the weight of this one was too large to be wanted. 

“Shiro’s fine, he slept in the Zeus cabin last night,” Coran started, leaning forward as if he were sharing a secret. “And I’m pretty sure Keith slept on the doorstep, because I saw him sneaking back into Ares cabin at dawn.” Lance snorted at that, because it was typical of Keith to do something like that.

They shared a short chuckle before sitting in silence. 

“You know you have to go my boy. The prophecy demands it.” Coran said in a whisper. Lance looked away and out the window with a frown. The camp was starting to wake up, and people were starting to come out of their sleepy dazes to go to training or classes. There was probably about to be a cabin inspection, but Lance knew his part was clean as a whistle. 

“I know.” He said, equally as quiet. He couldn’t be bothered to plaster on a smile, not in front of Coran. “Doesn’t mean I like it. If Keith is right, then at least one of us will not be coming back, win or lose.”

Coran looked out the window too, and they watched as Allura walked to the lake for her morning swim. Normally Lance would be out there with her, keeping her company she kept his. Once she disappeared, Shiro and Keith walked past, Shiro gesturing wildly with a smile. Probably showing off the camp far more than Lance did. 

“I know.” 

Lance looked back at Coran, who was staring out the window with that glassy look in his eyes. The one he gets when bad memories were being brought to the surface. All i took to snap him out of it was a hand on Coran’s shoulder. 

“What was it you were talking about at the meeting? Your hunch?” Lance asked, trying again to change the subject.

Coran stood up and walked away to the bookshelf behind the couch. he grabbed something, a book or something, and came back to sit next to Lance. He scooted closer to look at the book, which actually looked like an old journal instead. It was an old fashioned leather journal, with a leather strip to bind it closed. 

On the front was a symbol pressed into the leather. 

To Lance it looked like to malformed scythes connected at the hilts, and with a long arrow head or maybe a dagger in the center between the two scythes. Coran rubbed a thumb over the symbol, brushing away a thin layer of dust on the cover, hardly noticeable. Coran slipped the leather binding off slowly, delicately, and opened up the cover. 

The pages were weathered and yellow with age and minute stains on the edges. Like water marks, ink smudges, and little doodles. The first page was just a ‘this journal belongs to’ type of thing. The name was smeared so bad that all that were legible were the first three letter, _‘Zar-’._ Beneath that was a quote.

_‘Even the hand of Death reaches out’._

Lance blinked, recognizing the phrase ‘Hand of Death’ from the prophecy. Coran reached out and smoothed a line beneath the quote, and Lance witnessed the sadness and misery in his glassy stare. He didn’t push, letting Coran reel himself back into the present, only setting a hand on his shoulder to give him an anchor.

Coran stared at the page for a moment before flipping slowly through the pages. 

Some pages were journal entries, some pages were doodles, some pages were detailed designs. A park bench in the snow, the towering view of the Empire State building, home of Mount Olympus. A pair of sharp eyes, probably female, due to the certain curves given to the lining. Some entries towards the center of the journal were done in a different handwriting, curvy and elegant. 

The last few pages were drawings of a battlefield, but a familiar one. Lance only got the chance to realize that it was of the camp, gone up in flames and chaos, with a younger Coran in the thick of it, bloodied and scowling.

Lance has never seen Coran look so angry, or fearful.

The writing and drawings stop about three quarters of the way through the journal, and those pages are very clearly less touched than the rest of the journal. No hands smoothing the surface means no hand oils to weather the pages.

“Coran?” Lance asks, a million question in a single name. Coran shuts the journal and binds it.

“It was my best friend’s journal, before he disappeared from camp. A son of Hades, and the kindest of people.” Coran says. His voice his solemn and quiet. “He used to say this all the time. To him it meant, that even Death himself needs someone to reach out to. He used it to stop arguments with our mortal friend, because it made us realize that we had to be kind.”

Coran smoothes a hand over the cover again, clutching the sides so hard his knuckles turn white. Then his grip loosens and he hands the journal to Lance, who takes it gingerly, as if it would break. 

“Who knew his words of kindness would become words of destruction, if my hunch is right.” Coran says. “And I do hope I’m not, my boy.”

Lance sighs and leans into Coran, who wraps an arm around his shoulder in a heavy embrace.

“Perhaps this journal could be of some use to you on your journey.”


	12. Breakout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith POV, Keith and Pidge sneak out.

That night, the campers leaving on the quest were decided.

Shiro, Lance and Hunk. Keith couldn’t understand how it happened. Hunk didn’t even want to go, but Lance refused unless Hunk was with him. Lance seems like the kind of person who could charm a King out of his crown jewels with just a smile. Perhaps that was what happened. 

The head campers of all the cabins had one last meeting, this one more lively than the last. Keith had been adequately distracted because of all the movement going on. Satyrs and Nymphs, who were real beings that existed apparently, had gone in and out of the ping pong table meeting serving food and drinks and just being distracting in general. Keith had been so agitated he almost started three new fights with Lance, but Shiro was more on his game this time around, and shut it down real fast.

Now Keith had no choice but to watch the only person he ever cared for walk away to his death. 

Shiro had taken his time packing his belongings, probably not wanting to leave Keith behind either, or so Keith desperately hoped. It wasn’t much in the name of personal belongings, but Shiro was just that kind of guy. He didn’t need many material possessions to be happy. His pack was mainly stuffed with survival items. 

A pair of fresh clothes, and a couple boxes of first aid stuff. Lots of bandages. Why would they need so many bandages? Shiro also packed a block of what was apparently called ‘Ambrosia’, to heal demigods. A swiss pocket knife, a regular one, not a celestial bronze one, which had a few tools along with the blade. A tiny coin purse holding golden drachmas, and finally, a map of the United States, but slightly different. 

Shiro didn’t even let Keith look long enough to figure out what was different.

They hugged before they left the Zeus cabin. Then Keith was subjected to watching Lance say goodbye to a few people. Mainly Pidge. She was frowning, with watery eyes, her large glasses not even on her face, but held in her crossed arms. She seemed like she was pouting, or scowling, or both. 

Keith and Shiro were too far away to hear, but Keith had enough with the visual.

Lance ended the goodbyes by stooping to Pidge’s height, which was a lot for such a tall lanky guy like Lance to bend. He held it naturally, as if there wasn’t any trouble holding the stance so clearly unbalanced. Lance ruffled Pidge’s hair for some reason, which confused Keith. That wasn’t affectionate was it? He was just messing up her hair, evident by the way she _really_ scowled to move it back into place. 

Lance laughed, and he shared a hug with her and Hunk, who scooped them up in his large arms. 

Lance and Hunk met Keith at the border of the camp, next to the tree that had some sort of golden cloth dangling on a branch. Maybe one of Aphrodite’s children lost a scarf. Shiro, it seemed, had stepped away from Keith during his observation of the goodbyes. He shortly returned with Allura in tow. 

“Everyone ready to go?” Allura asked. Her voice was strained but polite, and slightly lilted in an accent. Her hair was down and brushed, a pure white cascading down her back, and a delicate looking dress on. It seemed to move around her, like maybe it was made of water. Who did Lance say was her godly parent again?

“Pretty much, Princess.” Lance said, bowing slightly at the waist before reaching out to wrap her in a brief hug. Coran and Chiron were striding up the hill to meet them, as well as a guy who seemed to have eyes up and down his body. They blinked at different intervals. Creepy.

“We’ll be sure to keep in touch through Iris messages.” Hunk said, sharing his own bone crushing hug with Allura. Her eyes almost popped out of her head at the squeeze when he lifted her off the ground, but she laughed when he set her back down. She brushed away tears on Hunk’s face before they stepped away. Hunk was crying? Why was Hunk crying? Is this usually what quests were like?

“Alright,” Chiron said as he strode up to the group. His white horse hair was smoothed and shiny. Keith still wasn’t used to that. “It’s time for our heroes to leave for their most important quest. Argus will take you as far as the city.” Chiron said, gesturing over at the creepy guy with eyes all over his body. Argus just nodded slowly one time. No one else seemed to be creeped out by this except Keith.

They’re all insane. Must be it.

Keith only marched back to the Ares cabin when they were gone, their backs the last thing Keith got to see of them. Now he was getting anxious, and he isn’t sure just how long it has been since he’s been pacing by the Ares cabin window. His cabinmates- siblings? He has siblings?- are all passed out, most of them holding various forms of weapons, and almost all of them snoring like lawnmowers. Keith was just turning to give sleep one last try before dawn when movement out the window caught his eye. He leaned closer, and finally realized what the movement was. 

Or rather, who.

A little body, swathed in green, was peeking out from behind a cabin, and then they were sneaking across the open. Keith didn’t have to guess to figure out who it was that was sneaking towards the edge of camp. He grinned in spite of himself, and rushed to pack his things as quietly as possible. It wasn’t much, so it didn’t take long. 

A pair of clothes, his red leather jacket, his tool/ weapon belt, and an extra celestial bronze sword that would transform into a gold, chain bracelet. Much like Lance’s gold necklace actually. He also packed some money and drachmas, before sneaking past the fortress of Ares cabin. Pidge was long gone, but Keith was faster than she was.

It was at the last building that Keith caught up to her, and he sidled up behind her on the wall. He leaned to whisper in her ear.

“You know where to go?” He asked. Pidge stiffened, before launching backwards and landing on her ass, pointing a weird blade at him. It was shaped like a boomerang, but as very clearly a sharp blade, with a little hang grip between the curves of the blades. The grip was painted green. Keith poked the blade, hissing quietly when it cut his finger.

Pidge dropped her odd weapon before standing angrily with her hands on her hips. 

“What are you doing here?” She quietly whisper-yelled. Keith shrugged.

“Same as you apparently.” 

“And what, pray tell, are you two ‘doing’ exactly?” Another voice said, and both Keith and Pidge jumped in place. Allura was above them, leaning out of her cabin window. Her hair was in a loose braid down her back, and her chin was leaning on her open palm. She looked amused.

“Uh,” Pidge said, which was better than Keith could have managed in that moment. 

Allura snorted, keeping herself quiet as she reached an arm backwards into the cabin. When she reached back out, a small travel pack was in her hand. She shook it a little when all Keith and Pidge did was stare. Keith reached up and grabbed it, opening it to see what was inside. 

More ambrosia, first aid stuff (Seriously, just how dangerous are these quests to need so much first aid stuff?). A folded up map, and a computer. Didn’t Shiro say technology was like putting a target on their heads for monsters? Why would they need the computer if it just meant sending out signals of their location?

“Use that computer wisely Pidge.” Allura said. “And good luck you two. They only have a few hours on you, but I’m sure you two will be fine.” Allura looked up at the sky, which was starting to light up. She looked back at them, and smiled. 

“I’ll cover for you.” She winked at them and shooed them away. Keith and Pidge shared a look, and Keith thanked her before following Pidge out of the camp borders.


	13. Maps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance leads the way.

“I think we should stay the night at a friend of mine’s tonight.” Shiro said after they were dropped off in the city and had been walking across town all day. “Figure out where we’re supposed to go and all that. Plus, I really want to see them.”

Lance shared a look with Hunk, who shrugged and tugged his pack higher on his shoulders. 

“You’re the fearless leader, Shiro.” Lance said. “Lead the way.”

Lance took rear in the line they made, the streets just a little bit too crowded to walk side by side, plus, having Lance at his back made Hunk relax his tensed up shoulders just a little. Always has. During capture the flag, Lance always made sure to be on the same team as Hunk, because the big guy just got so nervous. They were demigods, the warriors of the Parthenon and all that, but Hunk was ultimately a pacifist a first. It’s why they worked so well together.

Lance was the warrior, Hunk the brains.

Aesthetically, it should be the other way around what with Hunk’s looming stature and all, but Lance preferred to be in the action. Or more accurately, on top of it, sniping down the opposing team with his arrows. 

It only took a few more blocks on the main road through the city, before Shiro veered left into a residential road. Shiro led them up to a house Lance could only imagine cost a fortune with all the nice trimmed bushes and the very tall glass windows shrouded by curtains from the inside. They stepped onto the front porch, Lance hanging back to watch their backs. 

Shiro being a child of Zeus and all, they were more prone to monster attacks than normal quest parties. 

They stood there a few minutes, before Lance realized no one had knocked yet, and peeked over his shoulder to Shiro. His human hand was lifted and frozen before the white door, his eyebrows low on his face. The scar across his nose crinkled just slightly, and that gave Lance a little insight to Shiro’s otherwise stony expression. He looked as nervous as Hunk gets when Lance isn’t close by during combat practices.

Lance nudged Hunk, who was looking down at his feet.

The two of them locked eyes over their shoulders, and Hunk seemed to get Lance’s silent message. He knocked on the door, unfreezing Shiro just to make him look actually panicked before the door was swung open. A man around Shiro’s age was standing in the doorway, staring at Shiro.

He was handsome, in that nondescript kind of way. 

Plain, but not ugly. His most attractive features, in Lance’s eyes anyways, was his slanted eyes, so dark they looked black, framed by a pair of glasses and long black eyelashes. The man’s breath caught, sucked through his teeth in a quiet hiss. 

“’Kashi?” 

Shiro released a shuddering breath, and a small croaky sound from the back of the throat, before both of them surged forward. There were ways to tell the meaning behind a hug. It all depends on the way two bodies fit against each other, and the way the arms are placed, and just how long the hug lasts before breaking apart. There were more signs after the hug breaks too. Like lingering touches, and where they are, the look on a person’s face, and how close they stay together before the moment shatters. 

Shiro didn’t just know this man, he loved him.

“Adam I,” Shiro’s voice breaks and he clears it before starting again. Lance looked away to watch their surroundings, his thumb rolling his ring around his finger, prepared for a fight. “I’m so sorry. I can,” Shiro pauses again. “I can explain, a little bit.” 

Adam doesn’t seem to care in that moment, dragging them all into the house. 

Lance allows Hunk and Shiro to relax, taking a spot by the windows, a curtain cracked open just enough for Lance to see. He keeps one eye out the window and the other on the group. Shiro and Adam sit close on the couch while Hunk takes a chair, pulling out a few gears an starts quietly tinkering while watching the exchange. 

Shiro whispers to Adam, and judging by Adam’s expression, which is unblocked from Lance because he was facing Lance while Shiro faced Hunk, it was probably all that Shiro remembers of his year being M.I.A. Lance tunes it out to watch the outside as the sun slowly lowers to send the city into the nightlife. He tunes back in as Shiro pulls out the map they were using for the quest. Shiro has yet to show them it, so Lance steps away from the window to look.

“We are supposed to be following this map, but there’s nothing on it, so I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do from here.” Shiro says. Lance frowns, stepping to look at the map. Confusion floods his mind as he looks at the map.

“What are you talking about Shiro?” Lance says, crossing his arms. “It isn’t blank.” Shiro, Hunk and Adam all look at him incredulously, then at the map, and then back him. Shiro looks unimpressed and Hunk clears his throat nervously.

“Lance,” He says, folding his hands, the little device he had been working on gone now. “Now isn’t the time for jokes, the map is blank.” Lance scowls pointing at the map.

“I’m being serious, what are you, blind? It’s right there!”

Shiro looks down at the map, and then his expression softens into understanding. _Finally,_ Lance thinks, _they see what he sees._ Hunk and him share a look, and something must cross the air between them because Hunk’s widen almost comically big.

“Lance.” Shiro says, calmly and firmly. “What do you see?” Lance is the one who gives them an unimpressed look. They can’t be serious can they? Are they purposely doing this to embarrass him in front of this Adam guy? Lance looks between all of them, but they all look dead serious, even Adam, though Lance is almost sure he isn’t fully positive on what’s going on. 

He seems to be mortal. Demigods who are aware give off this sense, mainly detectable by monsters. Lance has always had a way of sensing other demigods, and the only reason Keith slipped his radar, was because they haven’t seen each other in years. Before Lance became sensitive to a demigod’s presence.

Lanc gives in and slams a finger on the map.

“Right here.” Lance says. It’s half covered by his finger now, but black greek letters were scrawled over a tiny spot on the map. “Now stop messing around.”

Hunk gently slips the map from underneath his finger, before flipping his wrist to show the map’s face carelessly. “Lance, I think you are the only one who can see what’s on the map. Because to us, it’s blank.” Confusion clouds his mind again.

“What are you saying?” 

Shiro stands, all business now, and no longer a heartbroken, lovesick puppy for Adam. “Remember the prophecy? _Shown the way by the unclaimed son?”_ Lance nods slowly, before realization creeps on him. Lance has to lead from here on out. The idea of it sent Lance’s heart clenching, dropping like a stone into his stomach. If they end up walking into a trap, it would be Lance’s fault, and only Lance’s. 

He really should have stayed home this summer.

“What does it say?” Adam says, the first words addressed to Lance in the hour or so they’ve been here. His voice is soothing, almost as calming and persuasive as Romelle is with her charmspeak. Lance swallows the lump in his throat and looked at the map again, long enough for the Greek letters to rearrange in his mind. 

“Here,” Lance says, tapping the map just underneath the greek words. “We’re going to L.A., city of angels.”


	14. High Speed Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quest team are followed.

"Are you sure it's alright that we take Adam's car? Because it's a very nice car, and statistically he isn't getting it back in one piece." Lance says, running a hand over the fine leather. It really _was_ a nice car, and if his father were to have seen him in it, he would have died from a heart attack. His father loved cars, and works as the city's best mechanic. _Oh god, he has to contact his family._ They're going to kill him if they find out he isn't at camp. Then again, they don't know of his heritage, so that could be bad.

"Adam doesn't mind, he knows how dangerous these quests can be, and he likes to be able to help however he can. For any and all demigods." Shiro says, shifting to raise his chin a little with a small smile. Hunk leaned forward from the back seat, looking all the world like he was shoved into a clown car.

They flipped a coin on who got shotgun.

"So about our destination, that's like, across the country. And we don't have enough time to drive all the way there and still complete the quest by the solstice." He said, and Lance glanced down at his hands. Like quite a few Hephaestus children, he has a nervous habit of tinkering when stressed. Lance felt extremely proud to note the fact that Hunk’s hands were folded serenely in front of him. 

His big hunky baby is growing up.

“Oh there’s no need to worry about that.” Shiro said, drumming his fingers nonchalantly against the steering wheel and avoiding their gazes by using the excuse of watching the road. “Once we hit the highway it’s just a matter of how far I can get without getting pulled over while doing a hundred or over.”

Lance felt his eyebrow raise rather than consciously do it himself. It wasn’t like Shiro to break the law so easily. Keith maybe, Allura most definitely, if the ends justify the means. Not Shiro though. Lance finds himself garnering a whole newfound respect for his hero. 

“Well then, I can do you one better Hunk.” Lance said, pitching in since the drive will be long. Might as well get their plan together, or at least as much of it as possible. “What’s in L.A.? What do we need to do there so badly that it’s the first stop on the road trip of hell?”

Shiro glanced over at Lance before turning back to the road to switch lanes and get on the highway.

“Well,” He said. “I know that the entrance to the Underworld is there, maybe that’s our destination?” 

“Great.” Hunk said, and suddenly there are gears in his hands again. Baby steps it seems. “We’re going toe to toe with the big guy of the dead, who has been accused more times than not by demigods for treason against the gods. What next?” 

Lance gives Hunk a sympathetic look, brimming with an underlayer of guilt. Hunk never even wanted to go on this quest, but Lance was a scaredy cat, and refused to go if Hunk didn’t. He gets what Hunk is feeling, mainly because Lance didn’t want to go either, but he has no choice in the matter. The prophecy forced Lance’s hand before he could even set up his Royal Flush.

“Uh guys?” Shiro said, his voice harsher than Lance has heard it in years. Shiro’s glancing into his mirrors with shifty eyes, narrowed and sharp. Lance glances behind them to see what Shiro sees and sees nothing. He really hopes their fearless leader isn’t having hallucinations.

“We’re being followed, I suggest you hold on to something.” Shiro says. Lance and Hunk don’t even have the time to grasp at the oh shit handles before Shiro yanks a hard right, cutting off three lanes of traffic and exiting off the interstate. Lance shrieks, scrambling to hold on to the bar with both hands, curling his body into his seat in fear. 

Hunk fares no better.

He’s spread eagled in the back seat screeching just as loudly as Lance is. Each hand has a white knuckled grip on an oh shit handle, and his legs are spread wide. His left foot is lodged in the space right between Shiro’s head rest and the walls of the car. His right knee digging into Lance’s seat. Shiro cuts another sharp turn right into city traffic and finally Lance sees it. 

They really are being followed, a black truck with tinted windows and lifted rims was right on their tail. Matching them for every turn and swerve and barely dodged obstacles. They were gaining on them, a hole ripped open in traffic that Shiro was currently plowing open for their followers. Shiro bank left onto a smaller but no less traveled road leading out of the city.

“Hold on, this is about to get bumpy!” Shiro calls out. Lance isn’t sure he wants to know how Shiro knows these streets so well, not sure if he’s going to like the answer. He veers onto a dirt road, and just as he said, the road gets bumpy as hell. Lance is being flung every which way, so he adopts a Hunk-like position to keep from flying out the windshield. He twists so that his body faces Shiro, grim faced as ever. Places one foot on Shiro’s seat, the other locked right next to the center console, one hand still on the handle, the other wrapped tightly around his seat. 

He tries to calm Hunk down by holding onto his knee, not sure it’s really working.

Shiro whips a sharp right, so sharp it’s almost a u-turn, and heads down an even less traveled dirt road. The bumps turn from dozens of short and sharp potholes to deep, gut wrenchingly terrifying dips and hills. 

“Where you going!?” Lance cries out, wincing when his head slams backwards into the window.

“Finding somewhere quieter, with less civilians in case this turns into an all out brawl. Like here for example!” Shiro says. Lance peeks open his eyes only to slam them shut again with a terrified wail as they jump off the dirt road and heads straight at a fence. This poor car.

The fence, thank god, is simple barbed wire. But Lance is on the verge of tears at the sound of it scraping against the exterior of the car. Such a waste of beautiful machinery. The field is empty of animals, probably a farm rather than a ranch. Shiro drives out for a minute, that truck still on their heels before he’s whipping the car around sharply to face the truck and stopping.

“Battle positions!” Shiro calls out, sounding winded like he had been holding his breath.

Lance doesn’t hesitate, and neither does Hunk, who looks particularly green in the face. They all hop out of the car, weapons being drawn as they move. Lance rounds around the back of the car, wincing at the deep scratch marks from the barbed wire. He transforms his bow and quiver, hopping on the back of the sleek car and moving to kneel on the roof of it, arrow drawn and ready to fire. 

Hunk on the other hand, whips out a giant axe Lance has never seen.

Him, alongside Shiro and his sword and shield, take point, while Lance provides back up. The truck stops just as they get into position, all of this happening in seconds. Whoever is driving the truck don’t stop with the windshield facing them, concealing themselves with the tinted windows. Said window starts rolling down, and Lance is dropping his aim even before he sees that smirking face.

“Damn Shiro, you drive like a maniac, how the hell did they give you a license?”

Shiro calls out in disbelieve. “Keith!?”


	15. Long Drives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter.

The van was silent, the tense kind.

After Keith and Pidge finally exited the truck they were in, Shiro tore into them. It was probably the most disappointed Dad speech Shiro had ever given. Lance and Hunk had sat back to watch as Keith fought back with every word Shiro shot at him. The logic was kind of stupid, but by the time Shiro finished his lecture with a troubled sigh, even Lance was convinced that Keith and Pidge deserved to go on this quest.

Shiro wasn’t though. 

At first he wanted to personally drive the two of them back to camp, but Hunk had to stop him from going through with it. They’ve already wasted so much time, they didn’t have the luxury of taking the two camp escapees back to their cabins. And it was obvious they wouldn’t go back on their own. So Shiro had to allow them to come along, if only because they were short on time. 

So they ‘borrowed’ a van, courtesy of Keith.

“So where are we going anyways?” Pidge asked, leaning forward to push her head in between Shiro and Lance’s seat. He resisted the urge to sneeze when her wild hair tickled his nose.

“If you don’t know where we’re going, then how did you find us?” Lance asked. It was a good question; after all, so far only Lance can see the content on the map, which was tucked safely in his inside pocket of his green jacket. Maybe Pidge or Keith can see the path too? He kind of hoped so, that way Lance wouldn’t have the ‘honour’ of leading this suicide mission. 

“The map we have is just basically a magical tracking device. It can tell us where you are in present or past times, but not future.” Pidge says, like it _wasn’t_ absolutely mindblowing. 

“Which one of us were you tracking though?” Hunk asks. 

“Shiro. Now is someone going to answer my question or not?” Pidge said, sounding drained. This is probably the longest amount of time Pidge has spent at once with a group of people who aren’t her brother or parents.

“We’re going to Los Angeles, where the door to the Underworld is placed.” Shiro said, his voice flat, signalling that he was still upset. Lance shifted in his seat when the car gets tense again. Keith, thankfully, breaks it. 

“Why L.A.?” He asked. “What is there that is important to the mission? And what do you mean by the ‘Door to the Underworld’?” Keith pauses, waiting for someone to answer him. Lance takes a few moments to realize that Shiro and Hunk were both glancing at him. Great, they want him to take charge again. Lance clears his throat from it’s sudden dryness and answers to keith’s expectant look.

“We don’t actually know why we’re going to L.A, just that we need to go there. Maybe there’s something we have to do in the Underworld?” Lance finishes, albeit weakly. Keith looks at him like he’s an idiot, but he can’t find the strength to start a fight over it. He knows that it’s stupid going into this whole quest thing without some sort of plan, but this is the best he can do until something new happens.

“Well, it seems we’ll have to figure it out as we go. We’ll take turns driving so we don’t have to stop for anything but gas and short breaks.” Shiro said, his voice losing a little of his anger. Lance shrugs and kicks his feet up on the dashboard.

"I guess we should get some rest until we switch out then, the drive will be long.”

“Forty hours, give or take, to be more exact. Not factoring in breaks and driving as fast as Shiro is.” Pidge said, already squeezing past the seats to curl up in the back of the van where all their stuff is. She curses loudly when Shiro hits a bump on the road, making her thump her head on the roof of the car.

“Language.” Shiro says, muttered under his breath as he dances through traffic at record speeds. Lance tenses briefly as they squeeze between two cars to get onto the carpool lane, and pressing the gas even harder. He glances back to see Pidge’s hair disappear behind the seats, and watched as Hunk shifted to spread out some. Keith catches his eye just long enough to share a small smile, before closing his eyes and seemingly slipping into sleep, just like that. 

Lance shakes his head in disbelief as he turns back to face forward. It takes a while before they need gas, and then Lance takes over the wheel, allowing Shiro and the others to get some sleep. It might actually be a bad idea for him to drive, seeing as he’s probably had the least sleep out of everyone in the car these past few days. But he tells himself it was for the best. 

He prefers to be awake and on guard for monsters and enemies. 

Lance grips the wheel harder when Shiro finally drifts off, peeling his eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. This quest was probably a suicide mission for Shiro and Lance both, so the least he could do was make things easier on the others while it happens. The less Hunk has to worry, and the less Keith has to be wary, and the less Pidge has to do by herself, and the less Shiro has to push himself, well, the better. It’s the least Lance can do.

He’ll protect his friends, even if it costs him everything to do it.


	16. Macaria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new character appears!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally hit a block after chapter 15, on this story anyways, but I'm back baby!

They didn't even get to tour the city when they reached Los Angeles. Which, yes, they're on a bit of a time crunch, but still. Lance had been hoping for a little R&R before jumping into the quest. Shiro was the fearless leader though, so they went straight to the door to hell.

Conveniently, the door was located in the DOA Recording Studios. Which, if you ask Lance, and no one did, is a very strange place for the door that leads to the Underworld. It should be in somewhere more appropriate, somewhere dark and full of misery. Like at the White House.

"So, what next?" Pidge asks as they head down the street to the DOA building. She's rubbing her eyes, evidence that she was just woken up from a nap. They had to ditch the van because traffic was almost as bad New York City. Almost. At least here it's warm, and they have beaches. Lance would kill to swim at a beach where the water isn’t deathly cold, and/or disgustingly polluted.

"Do we just walk up to Charon, say we need to talk to Hades, then pop in like we're just saying hello?" Pidge continues when no one answers her immediately.

"Guess so." Keith says. They lapse into silence, too wary for monsters to be chatty. Not even Lance feels like talking, and that's saying something. They finally reach the doors to the building, and just as Lance goes to open the door a voice calls out behind him.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you, Hades is in a bad mood right now." They all spin around, and for some reason Lance is both relieved and anxious to be at the back of the group. In front of them, seemingly blending in with the shadows of the buildings, is a woman. A gorgeous woman.

She has long black hair with gold streaks, curling at her hips. She's wearing a black leather jacket, ripped skinny jeans, and a pair of black, knee high, studded leather boots. She's smoking a cigarette, and Lance watches as she takes a long drag and then throws it. He almost expects it to land on one of passing pedestrians, who are all swarming around them like they know exactly what Lance and his friends are.

But the cigarette vanishes in a cloud of shadows.

Lance swallows as the woman steps from the wall, his focus zeroing in on her. She only has to take a step closer for Lance's vision to flash in gold. It's rare that it happens, but Lance has seen it enough to know exactly what it means, without the means to explain how he does.

The woman is a demigod, a powerful one.

He snaps out of the brief trance to notice that he had shoved his way to the front of the group. Keith and Shiro are already discreetly branding their celestial bronze weapons. The woman steps up to Lance, sizes him up, and Lance is intimidated by the fact that she's actually taller than him.

"Who the hell are you?" Keith demands, but Lance and the woman both ignore him. She steps away at last with a smile as she slips off her sunglasses. Lance locks eyes with mismatched eyes. One is black as night, the other inhumanly golden.

"The names Macaria, and you probably don't know me, but I'm here to help." She says. Her voice is smooth, like velvet. It’s not a high pitch, but it isn’t low either. No accent, no special design of her voice or face to give away where she comes from. 

Shiro edges forward, his sword low at his side, closest to the building walls. 

“Why should we believe you aren’t a threat?” He says. Macaria smiles, and it’s sharp, forcing Lance to fight to keep focused. He feels drawn to her, and it’s familiar. He’s drawn to her like he’s drawn to Shiro, like he’s drawn to Allura. What do these three people have in common to draw him in so easily?

Macaria ignores Shiro, turning back to Lance. He swallows when her eyes are on him, the background starting to fade, but he fights it. He isn’t sure what in the Gods’ names he’s fighting against, but it feels wrong. Like he shouldn’t fight it. Is this the Charmspeak Romelle refuses to use? Is this Macaria woman a daughter of Aphrodite?

“Tell me child,” She says, and her voice snaps him out of the spiral he’s falling into. “Have you seen my golden glow?” Lance’s heart feels like it stops beating. He shouldn’t know what this stranger is referring to, but he does. Like being summoned from his deepest soul, the gold flashes again, but it lasts a moment longer. Lance witnesses the speckles of black and white as they weave around Macaria. 

She smiles, and the flash is over.

“I see. Why don’t you tell your lovely friends to stop threatening me, and I can tell you what the glow means?” Macaria says.

His body starts a war with itself. A third of him wants to fight her, to get rid of the threat posed in front of his friends. A third of him wants to follow her, get answers he’s wanted for years. The last one, the one with a quiet whisper in the back of his head, just wants him to turn tail and run for the hills. 

But the ‘glow’ as Macaria calls it, he needs to understand.

Ever since he was a child, he would get flashes of color. It was even rarer back then, because it was before his adoption, and before he knew of his godly roots. Most of the time it only happened around new, but aware demigods, and was always just a flash of muted gold. 

He’s searched for reasons why ever since he realized that no one else saw what he sees. 

Macaria seems to recognize the struggle in Lance’s mind, and she sighs. She slips her sunglasses back on and gives a sharp scowl. Lance is too preoccupied to notice the faint trails of shadows around her feet.

“Fine, let’s do this the hard way then.”

Suddenly the shadows surge around him, and Lance barely has time to gasp before the scenery falls away. Before it does, just on the edge of total darkness, an arm wraps around his waist. Then he, and whoever is holding on, are falling into darkness.


	17. Lance in Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More weird Macaria coming right up!

Lance lands face first on concrete, but it wasn't a hard fall, so he would have been fine. But then something lands on top of him and breaks his entire body, or at least that's what it feels like to him. He groans, and tries to push the weight off, but fails because it's too heavy. 

Then the weight groans.

So, apparently, he was being smushed by a person. Said person shifts, digging their elbow into his spinal cord. Lance winces and turns his face to look at the person crushing him face first on concrete. Lance wants to scream when he sees a familiar mullet. 

Apparently he was being smushed by Keith.

"Great, no wonder you were so heavy, one of your lookie loo pals tagged along." A voice says, and Lance looks up to see Macaria glaring down at him. Keith finally manages to get off him, and then puts his fists up. But he's shaky, like he's going to throw up. Lance hauls himself up with a hiss, knowing he's probably going to have a bruise where Keith elbowed him. 

"What the hell?" Lance says, which, yes, probably isn't the best thing to say right off the bat when someone zaps you with a bunch of shadows. _Way to try to piss off the scary demigod lady Lance._ Macaria, however, just sighs at him. Which, weird, but at least it isn't being zapped again. His stomach rolls as he makes it to his feet at last. 

"Where are we?" Keith continues, edging in front of Lance. "Where's our friends? What do you want with Lance?"

Lance lets Keith do his thing while he gathers his bearings. They're in some sort of concrete alleyway, just far enough in that he can barely hear cars, and he can't immediately find the exit. It's a clean alley though, or cleaner than one would expect. A little ways to the right, behind Macaria, is a metal door with the symbol of Hermes painted in gold.

For some reason Lance _really_ wants in that door.

This, however, is a much weaker pull, so he can ignore it like it's nothing but an annoying bug. Lance turns back to Macaria, noticing his entire body was hidden behind Keith's in his distraction. _And wow, muscles._

"We are just down the street from your friends, who are still in front of the door to Hell, and all I want to do is talk. Now move so I can do just that." She says, her tone bordering between exasperated and annoyed. Lance bites his lip, thinking about what he should do. He comes to a conclusion the moment he and Macaria lock eyes again. 

Lance shoves Keith lightly out of the way. 

"The glow." Lance says, his voice staying even for once. "I want to know what it is. But I want to have _all_ of my friends here, just in case." _Just in case you're a psycho._

Macaria thinks for a moment, giving Keith time to glare at Lance as he saves himself from hitting concrete. Lance ignores him, watching Macaria's face fall into resignation.

"Fine." She says, then snaps her fingers. All of a sudden there's three loud thumps behind them. He turns around and winces at what he sees. Poor Pidge ate concrete first.

"Help," Pidge wheezes out, reaching forward. "Me." 

Lance isn't sure if he should feel sorry or feel amused. Both maybe. Keith rushes to Shiro, who drew the big straw and landed on top of the demigod dog pile. When Shiro and Hunk are off of Pidge she lays there groaning for a moment. Neither of the two who squished her look all that apologetic. 

"You coming child?" Macaria says, her voice further away. When Lance turns around he sees her at the door he wanted to enter. The one with the symbol of Hermes. Could Hermes be his father? Maybe that's why he feels compelled. But then again, he's also compelled to Shiro, Allura and Macaria.

This is getting confusing. 

Macaria opens the door a little, just enough for rock music to fill the allyway. When she raises an eyebrow at him beneath her sunglasses he's suddenly moving, no longer fighting the pull he has. 

"Lance, wait-" Shiro calls out behind him. But it's too late, he's already walking through the doorway. He isn't sure what he's expecting to see once he passes the barrier, because there is one. The same type like the one at camp, but not quite as powerful. He isn't sure if he was expecting a club, or a trap house, or a door to Hell. 

The lights inside are dim, easy on the eyes, but it isn't dark. The walls are smooth stone, with etched symbols like the ones he remembers seeing one of the Hecate cabin residents drawing in the sand. The walls encase a very large room, larger than what seems possible. On the edges of the room are simple wooden tables like one would see in an old timey tavern, except weirder. 

Tables for two, tables for large groups, very tall tables with large chairs, small tables like it would be for a kid. The middle of the large room was open floor, with a white painted square on the stone. A dance floor maybe? At the very back of the room is a bar of smooth polished granite, and tv's hung on the wall above the shelves of liqueur and liquids. Hidden in the far left corner is a staircase with a body guard. 

The tavern/bar/club isn't full, but it's crowded.

Most of them seem to be demigods. Or maybe just powerful beings, because everytime he looks at a person his vision flashes with gold. Some of it is muted, like usual, some of it are as blinding as Macaria's, and some of it are less gold and more of different colors. Red, white, black, pink. It's kind of dizzying.

"Follow me child." Macaria says and Lance faces her with a scowl. 

"I have a name you know." He says, but he almost can't hear himself over the noise of the tavern/bar/club type place he's in.

"One which I have not been formally introduced, so I may call you child until you give me your name properly." She says, her voice floating over the crowd as she walks away. Lance is reminded of his grandmother's fairytales when he was young. Of the Fae, and the mind games they play to get what they want. Of how you always had to say things a certain way, like how you will not _give_ them your name, but you can _tell_ them. 

Does that apply in this situation? 

He spent so much time pondering, he almost misses Macaria slipping past the body guard at the stairs. He doesn't miss the flirty smile they share though, which is interesting. 

"Lance!" Shiro says behind him. He turns to him, and gives him a patented 'Guilty Lance Smile'. Almost always gets him out of trouble. Or it does with Coran at least. 

Shiro doesn't look mad though, only Keith really has that look, but his face has been twisted like that since they were five. They're all grouped just inside the door like a pack of terrified puppies. Lance looks back at the staircase, seeing the bodyguard staring at him. It seems like he's expecting Lance to follow Macaria, which yeah he's definitely doing. 

Lance doesn't wait for his friends to follow before he marches up to the bodyguard. 

The bodyguard looks inhumanly handsome up close, but in that burly biker dude sort of way. Sharp golden eyes, like one of Macaria's. The golden eyed man steps aside without even trying to stop Lance. There's footsteps behind him when he starts climbing the stairs, and Lance glances down to see his friends. Shiro looks like he's saying something, but the words fall on deaf ears. 

Lance can't understand a word he's saying.

Perhaps that should have alarmed him, the fact that his friends were speaking in muted gibberish. But it doesn't. He just continues taking the stairs by two. At the top of the stairs is a hallway, a long one that curves at the end of Lance's line of sight. And all along the hallway walls are doors of every nature. 

Some doors are tall enough to fit a bulldozer. Others barely big enough to fit a child. Some doors are wooden, some metal. Some look like they could collapse with a single touch, others aren't even doors at all. Those would include turnstiles, old western swing doors you see in the movies, a stack of streamers that shift with his footsteps. 

Lance feels like he just walked into a weird version of Alice in Wonderland.

He isn't sure where he's going, or which door he should enter, so he just keeps walking. He doesn't stop until he hears Macaria whistle at him. Lance turns back to his friends, who are way too far behind him. They rush to him once he stops, and Keith starts mumbling that muted gibberish. He feels like he should know what Keith is trying to say but he doesn't. This is almost like when his family would speak Spanish around him just after the adoption.

His attention is pulled away once again by Macaria's sharp whistle.

Lance walks into a room, through a normal looking door and into an office like area. Macaria sits at a round table, the only furniture in the room other than the chairs. It makes him curious to where she got the cup of coffee. She's relaxed, twisting one of those golden locks around her finger. 

Her sunglasses are pushed on top of her head, pushing back her hair to show a tattoo on the side of her neck. It looks like an oraborous, an intricate one that connects to another tattoo beneath her collar.

Lance takes a seat directly across from Macaria.

His friends are slow to enter the room, let alone sit down. And Shiro looks worried. Weird, that's Hunk's job. Lance's attention refocuses on Macaria at the sound of her cup being set down. 

"No worries, we can talk in private now. Your friends can't understand a word we're saying." Macaria says. The end of her sentence curls, like it's just barely peeking into another language, except she didn't say anything in a different language. He just has the feeling like she did. Lance drags his eyes over to Shiro, who's muttering in gibberish again.

Shiro looks tense, his eyes begging Lance to listen to him. His mouth is moving again, and Lance vaguely recognizes the English word 'leave' forming on Shiro's lips. If he strained real hard, he could probably hear it too. Lance is caught in the realization of just how powerful Macaria is all over again. 

_Who is this woman?_


	18. Highway to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro tries to get Lance to leave.

Shiro wants to scream in frustration.

It's only been five minutes since they had all sat down at the table, Lance and that Macaria chick facing each other. When they started talking, it was in gibberish, and Shiro could feel dread slide thickly down the back of his throat. It's a normal feeling. You get used to bad things happening when you're a powerful demigod.

Shiro had proceeded to try and tell Lance they they need to leave, but nothing he did worked. It's like Lance is in a trance or something. His pupils are blown wide, and the only thing he can focus on is Macaria. When Shiro or the others successfully drag his attention to them, all Macaria has to do is a make a sound, and not even a loud one.

The click of her fingernails against the table. The quiet chink of her mug when she sets it on the table. A quick intake of breath. She was doing it on purpose too, keeping Lance focused on her and her only while they talked. Shiro knew it by the deliberate smile on her face when she does it again.

"I don't think we'll be able to leave until Macaria is through with Lance." Keith says, a scowl etched across his face. He does that a lot lately, particularly towards Lance.

"Maybe we can figure out the gist of what they're saying by context clues?" Pidge says, a shrug on her shoulders. Shiro sighs and they agree to just sit and watch. Not like they have much choice.

Shiro turns his eyes onto Lance. He’s sitting fairly calmly, maybe a little more tense than comfort calls for. His hands are on the table, his thumb rubbing over a golden ring on his finger. That’s probably where Lance’s bow or quiver transform from. Transformation weapons are beyond rare, usually only given from a demigods parent, usually only if they’re a favored child. Wonder whether the gifter is Lance’s godly parent. 

Lance shifts in his seat when Macaria says something to him. 

Lance’s face is too impassive for Shiro to read, which is pretty normal. Lance is probably in the top five running for nicest people at camp. Hunk, Shay, and Allura are right up there with him as well. Even so, he has the best poker face. Not even Rolo has been able to win a gamble against him in their secret card games. So Shiro turns to Macaria, who sits lazily, with an open expression. Though as far Shiro knows, that could be mask as well. 

She slips her leather jacket off of her left arm, showcasing more tattoos snaking down to her wrist, uncovered from her black Nirvana tank top. Lance looks from the arm to her face, and Macaria says something, nodding at her arm. Lance reaches out, slowly, his hand moving to hover over one of the tattoos. They’re all just long lines, curving like streaks of black wind. After a moment Lance glides one finger over the tattoo, and in its wake a trail of shadows follow. Lance yelps and yanks his hand away like it burned him, making Shiro tense in preparation for battle.

Lance doesn’t act like he’s injured, but when he looks from the arm to his hand, there’s a few lingering shadows sticking to his fingers. Lance shakes his hand rapidly to disperse it. Macaria chuckles, willing the shadows back to her, and she runs her finger across the tattoo, which seams to seal the shadows back where they belonged. Lance’s face is white.

Macaria slips her jacket back on and swipes her hair over her shoulder. Then she and Lance take turns adding to conversation. They don’t do much body language wie after that. A nod here, a pursing of lips, Lance’s raised eyebrow. Then she says something that seems to shock Lance, causing him to jerk in his seat like he’s been slapped. 

Then their eyes lock onto Shiro.

Shiro shifts, uncomfortable with the tension and leans closer to Keith, since Hunk and Pidge were on the other side of Lance. When they turn back to face each other, Lance looks visibly troubled. His eyes keep looking back at Shiro though.

“Does anyone else get the feeling they’re talking about me?” Shiro says, and tears his eyes away to look at Keith. He’s giving Shiro the most unimpressed look he’s able to manage.

“No way. Wonder what gave you that idea?” He says sarcastically, and Shiro glares at him, but he turns back to the two gibberish speakers without a retort. Macaria says something, and Lance’s face turns thunderous. Shiro almost expected thunder to roll across the sky. Except that’s what happens to Shiro. He’s never seen Lance this furious, not even when he and Keith started fighting at the council meeting, so Shiro can’t say what exactly would happen if Lance let his fury free. 

He suspects the effect would be disastrous, no matter who his godly parent may be. 

Lance snaps at her and starts to stand, but Macaria says something, completely unfazed, but not in a very happy manner. Her face is almost as dangerous as lance’s right then. Lance freezes half way to standing, his face torn in two. Then his shoulder deflate and he sits down slowly. Macaria smiles again, almost more dangerous than any other look she’s sported since they met her. 

The conversation goes on for another few minutes, Lance’s replies more than a little clipped. When Macaria goes to stand, Shiro tenses again, having relaxed in his seat. Lance stands as well. They’re still talking, and despite Lance’s look of distaste, they shake hands. When they pull away, Lance starts saying something in gibberish one last time, before cutting into English.

“-have a quest to get to, so if you don’t mind taking off the spell now.” Lance says, not seeming to realize they could understand him again. Macaria smiles, and finishes off whatever was in her mug, coffee maybe. She sets the mug down again, but it disappears in a small cloud of smoke before it even touches the table surface.

“I already have child, do remember what we talked about. It may help you on your little quest.” Macaria says, blows him a kiss, steps into the shadow of the room and vanishes in a cloud of black smoke. Lance mutters angrily under his breath, just loud enough to be heard in the silence of the room. 

“I’d like to help you to my arrows, you witch.” Lance doesn’t say witch, but close enough. Pidge snorts and Lance looks at her with surprise, his face finally easing back to his usual smile.

“So what was that all about?” Keith asked, tilting his head at Lance. Lance doesn’t answer as he’s walking out of the room. He freezes a few feet into the door, Keith crashing into his back. 

“What the hell was-” Keith starts, but he freezes when he sees what the rest of them are looking at. They were no longer standing in a strange building with strange doors. They were all looking at long stretch of empty highway in the middle of the desert. There’s nothing to see for miles, and the sun is hot overhead. Shiro does not like where this is taking them. 

“I think I figured out why the door had the symbol of Hermes painted on it.” Lance said.


	19. Manticore Shmanticore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance POV. The gang face their first monster!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man i'd almost forgotten about this story! But I have returned my children! And for an apology this chapter is packed with pure action and Lance being a badass ;)

“Okay,” Hunk says. “I’m getting nervous. How did we get here? Who was that Macaria chick? And what did she want with you Lance?”

Lance curls into himself a little in guilt. He didn’t want to worry his friends, but he wanted- _needed_ \- to know what Macaria had to say. Now he kind of wishes he had listened to Shiro and Keith in the first place. He doesn’t even _want_ to remember what all they had talked about, but it’s playing in his head like a broken record.

“It was nothing, just a waste of time. So which direction do we go? Left or right?” Lance says, changing the subject. He looks around at his friends, meeting Keith’s narrowed gaze.

Lance casually looks away to face Pidge and Shiro.

“Well,” Pidge says. “You’re the only one who can read the map, you tell us.”

Lance chuckles nervously, remembering that he’s the only one with a sense of what they’re doing. Their prophecy is so vague, they all are just kind of wandering around lost waiting for something to happen. He goes to pull out the map but freezes when a weird noise thrums in his ears. 

Like howling wind.

“Does anyone else hear that?” Lance asks and one by one his friends tense up and grab their weapons. 

“Get ready, it might be monsters.” Shiro says. See, now Lance likes Shiro. He really does, he considers Shiro to apart of his family, by blood or otherwise. However, sometimes he really hates Shiro. He has this uncanny ability to say something like ‘it might be monsters’ and then _bam,_ guess what happens?

Lance is knocked off his feet with a sharp pain striking his shoulder. He lands a few feet away, crashing to the ground back first, knocking the breath out of his lungs. When he opens his eyes, he looks to his shoulder and his vision is drowned out by a thorn the size of his forearm, three inches at the very least deep into his shoulder. 

Lance grits his teeth and grabs the thorn by the base and yanks, hard.

His scream rips itself from his throat and his head swims. Lance goes to stand but he stumbles. Hunk runs to him, but Lance only has eyes for the beast flying in hot. 

It’s lion-like face is almost human in a very distinctly creepy way, skin red like blood. And not the shiny firetruck red blood they use on tv. It has to be as large as a lion, maybe larger, with wings twice the size of its body. It roars deafeningly loud, showing off three rows of razor sharp and very large teeth.

Lance’s eyes track down the body of the beast in horror.

In patches all along its body, foot long spikes stick out of it’s skin like a porcupine, matching the rough and even sharp looking fur on the rest of its body. Its tail curls behind it like a lion’s up until the end, where it flares out into a lot more spikes like the one Lance pulled from his shoulder. 

The beast lands on the ground in puff of sand and dust.

Hunk helps him to stand as he watches that tail, sees a spike that was so clearly missing before, begin to grow a new one. His eyes fail him for a moment as a darkness on the edge of his vision engulfs him but he grits his teeth and forces himself to stay awake. 

“What is that thing?” Keith yells, brandishing both a celestial bronze sword and his curious little knife that looks almost like stygian iron. He leaps sideways roughly and just barely manages to avoid a row of stingers.

“A manticore! Watch out, don’t get hit by it’s stingers, they’re deadly to demigods just by being scratched by one!” Pidge yells, and she launches her boomerang blade thing she calls a weapon, nailing the manticore in the face. It doesn’t do serious damage at all, but it pisses him off for sure.

_Welp, ain’t this just the icing on the cake._

Pidge goes to attack again, but the manticore shifts how it had been standing. Now his scorpion-esque tail is dead center in front of its body, and the tail rears back. The movement is familiar, so much so it makes Lance’s entire body tingle. He sees why when it starts launching it’s stingers. 

Rear back, launch. Rear back, launch. 

Suddenly instead of looking at the tail he sees a faceless person standing on the back of the manticore. It’s an archer, and Lance watches as the muscles of the imaginary person draws back the string on the arrow. As the arrow is drawn back, so is the tail, and as the arrow releases, so does a stinger. 

Lance sucks in a breath and wills his bow and quiver into form. 

He shoves off of Hunk lightly, grateful that Keith, Shiro and Pidge are keeping the beast distracted. Mainly Pidge since she’s the only one who can do long range other than Lance. His arms are heavy like they’re doused in lead a mile thick. It takes his entire concentration to even stand still, let alone draw back his bow. 

His grasp is so shaky he doubts he would even hit his target.

Lance closes his eyes as he prays, something he hasn’t done in a long while. He calls out to the gods, to two of them in particular to be precise. _Apollo and Artemis, hear my plea, guide my aim and let it be true._ Lance feels a brief surge of strength and he snaps his eyes open. With it, his arrow flies.

It nails the Manticore hard in its shoulder.

The manticore roars, rearing its head back, and threatening to break his ear drums. Keith and Shiro take the advantage to attack, but the manticore is far from finished with this fight. They strike at it with their swords and Keith’s knife, each managing a single blow before the wings on the manticore flap once and send them sprawling to the ground a few feet away.

A shock of reddish blonde hair peeks out from behind the manticore. 

Pidge calls out a battle cry from behind it and strikes with her weird boomerang blade, severing the tendons of the manticore’s heel. Best part of it having human features? It inherited the weakness of Achilles’ heel. The manticore roars again, and then the tail leaves its front and strikes backwards quickly. 

“Pidge!” Hunk yells, running forward and brandishing his axe. Where the hell is that giant thing appearing from? There’s a yelp and Lance breathes out a sigh of relief as he watches her scramble unharmed if not a little scraped up from behind the beast. 

Shiro and Keith attack again.

The manticore has fast reflexes no doubt, because that tail whips in front of it again, knocking Keith in the stomach as it’s claws swipe at Shiro. The claws rake down Shiro’s arm, but Keith doesn’t look skewered which is a good thing. 

In it’s distraction, Pidge strikes again.

And like before, it strikes quickly with its tail to what must have been a hundred feet, give or take. The dance continues like this as Lance uses his bow as a cane. His eyes rake over the beast, looking for a weak spot. What will be able to kill such a destructive beast?

Lance fights to keep his strength, but it’s draining fast. He needs to find a weak spot and exploit it soon, or his friends will be killed by the manticore out of pure exhaustion. His thoughts are disturbed as thunder rages overhead, and a thick shock of lightning strikes the manticore.

Or tries to anyways. 

The lightning does make contact, but like a mirror, the electricity is sent off to the side. It strikes the sand mere feet from Lance, sending him on his ass. He curses and opens his eyes to watch the manticore even closely.

It’s when it goes to strike out at Pidge again that Lance sees it.

The strike point of the lightning is charred, like it did actually do damage but that it was deflected at the last second. An idea starts to pop up inside of Lance’s head as he watches even closer. He notices that as the manticore strikes out at Pidge and Hunk, it leaves himself open to Keith and Shiro, and vice versa.

Shiro tries one more strike with lightning and everything clears up.

As the lightning falls to Earth from the heavens, everything seems to slow down. He watches as the eyes of the manticore flick upwards and then his body stills. Lance watches as the wings of the beast fold in tight over his spinal cord, and how he twists his body sideways to allow the lightning to strike it’s fur. 

He also sees as the lightning hits, bubbles up, and then is sent away.

Lance forces himself to his knees, his vision darkening with the abrupt movement. He uses his bow to keep himself steady as the others fight, dodging stingers, claws and sharp teeth. He sucks in a breath and narrows his eyes. Despite how hurtful Keith’s comments had been days earlier, about him not looking like a warrior, Lance knows better. 

He knows he’s a warrior. 

He knows he’s a hero.

And he knows how to beat the creature of the abyss. 

“Shiro.” Lance says, barely above a whisper. His voice is croaky and dry so he swallows and tries again. “Shiro!”

Shiro’s head twitches his way, as do all of the others, but they quickly face the manticore again as it continues to strike. Not even allowing them a moment to catch their bearings, how rude. 

“Listen! Shiro, Pidge, Keith. At the same time I need you all to strike. Pidge from the back, Keith from the front, Shiro with lightning! At the same time, Hunk, you need to get on it’s back and force its wings open!” Lance yells out quickly. They all collectively leap backwards as the manticore swipes its tail in a circle and nearly behead all of them in one blow. 

Keith’s head whips towards Lance in a glare.

“Are you mad?” Keith yells, but Lance glares back at him. 

“Just do it on my mark!” Lance says. He waits until he gets an affirmative from everyone before he begins his plan.

“I don’t like this but I trust you!” Hunk yells and he proceeds to try to get onto the beast’s back. 

Lance struggles to his feet one last time, wobbling dangerously as his head throbs and his vision blackens. _Okay Artemis, Apollo, one more time. Guide my aim and let it be true._

Lance grabs his bow from the ground, nearly face planting into the dirt as pain racks his body, starting from the injured shoulder. He draws out an arrow made of metal, and nocks it, preparing to draw back and fire. He breaths in and out slowly as he forces his vision to clear.

He watches as his friends finally get into position, Hunk on the back and the others surrounding the beast in a triangle. He waits as Hunk wrestles with the wings of the beast, which looks hard since it keeps bucking like a bull at a rodeo. Hunk eventually forces them open by using his weight and height to his advantage and laying on one wing, using his legs on the other.

“Okay!” Lance calls out. “On three! One,” Lance draws back his bow and aims at the manticore, and coincidentally Hunk as well.

“Two!” Lance aims at the sky as he calculates his correct trajectory like it’s simple addition math. He pulls back his bowstring hard, feeling strength surge through his body as he releases. The arrow flies true, arcing and hitting the beast dead center between its wings, inches from Hunk’s crotch.

Hunk takes it as his cue and prepares to launch off the thing. 

“Three!” Pidge and Keith surge forward at the same time, one in front and one behind, confusing the beast enough for its wings to relax and allowing Hunk to slip off its back. The moment Hunk is clear, thunder rages overhead and a very large bolt of lightning surges towards the ground. The shine is so bright it blocks out the light of Apollo’s sun for a brief moment, and it strikes Lance’s arrow.

Shiro hadn’t been aiming at its back, but it’s tail, probably because of Hunk. 

It’s why Lance shot a _metal_ arrow, to act as a lightning rod. And boy did the lightning-rod-arrow trick work. The blast of electricity strikes the weak spot of the manticore and its back arches hard with the force of it. It shrieks so loud, Lance feels blood dripping from his eardrum.

But it was _so worth it,_ because when the bright light of the lightning vanishes, with it goes the manticore. 

“I can’t believe that just happened!” Pidge yells, holding her very scraped up arm with a smile. 

“Lance’s plan actually worked! We killed it!” Keith yells, pumping his fist holding his sword into the air, blinding Lance momentarily as light reflects into his eyes. 

“That was amazing Lance,” Shiro says as he walks over to him, followed soon after by his tired and worn friends. “I’m glad you were with us on this trip, Zeus knows what would have happened to us without you here.” 

Lance smiles and the strength all but drips from him and he collapses to the ground. A pair of arms catch him just in time, one of the hands holding a stygian iron knife. Lance blacks out to the sound of his name being yelled in panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO I just realized I did this scene in O:V too, although just a tiny bit altered. XD


	20. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is stuck in a nightmare.

Lance is dreaming.

He’s dreaming, and he knows it, because everything is wrong. He’s standing in the center of Camp Half Blood, or what is left of it anyways. It looks nothing like Lance knows it to be. Nothing at all. 

The tree on the hill that holds the Golden Fleece and stands as the camp’s barrier is cut down. Peleus, the copper colored dragon charged with keeping the tree safe, lays dead and nothing but a skeleton still curled around the tree’s base. The cabins for all of the gods are gone too, replaced with uniform looking grey buildings.

The training area looks a little bit the same, except instead of arrow targets, there are sheets of metal Lance knows is used for target practice with mortal firearms. The Big House is probably the most changed of it all. 

Instead of the baby blue house styled like it belongs on a plantation in the colonial 1800′s, there is what can only be described as a tower to the heavens. Black walls, tinted windows, more floors than Lance can see on the ground. Lance shivers as the house gives him a strong chill down his spine. 

“So, you’re what the gods sent to defeat me?” A voice sounds behind Lance. It’s deep and chilling, with a rough undertone like his vocal cords are deteriorating. Lance spins around and wills his bow and quiver to form, but he’s weaponless. 

Before him stands a man in his late thirties to his early forties, with salt and pepper black hair, slicked back on his head. His face is fairly handsome, in that scary biker kind of way. A long scar splits his lip and over his left eye and through his eyebrow, all the way up into his hairline. His eyes look yellow in the shadows thrown across his face. 

This man steps closer, and Lance quickly realizes that despite being fairly tall himself, this man is taller. And broader. And guanter in the cheeks. Lance steps back, or tries to, but his feet are planted, paralyzed. The man with the scar steps closer and begins circling Lance like a predator. Lance tries to keep him in front of him but his feet won’t even manage that. He swallows back his fear and squares his shoulders.

“And who might you be?” Lance says, his voice deceptively strong.

The man stops behind him, and then chuckles deeply in his throat. Lance bites down his whimper of fear. He is very afraid, and he is very alone. _Someone wake me up._

“You don’t know who I am?” The man says, leaning closer to Lance’s ear. A hand reaches around his side and his jacket is moved open, a weight lifted out of his pockets. Lance doesn’t look, because even his eyes are frozen now. 

“If this is the truth, then why do you have my journal?” The man says, his words more a growl than they are a question. 

The journal Coran had given him is lifted in front of his vision. That same symbol, like two crossing scythes and a dagger or arrowhead lodged between, fills his vision. When it moves out of the way, Lance wants to scream. 

Now, the empty, deformed Camp Half Blood, is no longer empty.

Skeletons are stacked in piles beside the buildings, and he recognizes one of the larger ones as having Hunk’s headband. Another small one has Pidge’s glasses in the same pile. Another, closer to Lance and alone against the wall, holds a stygian iron dagger. Lance looks away.

“Do you see what you face child? There is no salvation for you or your _friends.”_ He says, venom dripping off the word ‘friends’. Lance feels tears track down his cheeks. 

“Unless,” The man says. “You join me. Reject the gods, fight by my side. We can make a new world for demigods.”

Lance gathers enough of his strength to speak but his body is still frozen. “Go to hell asshole.”

The man chuckles and moves away, coming to stand in front of him. Those yellow eyes track over Lance, like they see right past his skin and blood and bones and straight into his soul. A cruel smile curls on the man’s lips. 

“I see now. I have no need for a living, _unclaimed,_ corpse. Your friends might be of more use though. Like the one born of Zeus.” The man says, looking off like he’s musing aloud. Lance swallows again as his throat dries out. He feels so weak.

“What do you mean by a living corpse?” Lance’s voice is barely above a whisper. The man looks disgusted and unamused. 

“You are dying boy, I see it on your soul.” The man says, and Lance’s heart skips a beat. The man smiles cruelly again. “And since I have no use for you anymore with your impending death, I might as well have a little fun.”

The deformed and horrific background of the camp, bearing flags with that dagger and scythes symbol, falls away. Lance’s body plummets through darkness, and he screams, but that is all he has the strength to do. He lands on his back in camp, _normal_ camp. It’s peaceful for a brief moment, until there’s screaming from the campers. 

Lance struggles to sit up, but only manages to move his head so he can see. 

“Fall back!” Coran yells as he runs past, not even looking back as Lance croaks out his name. Lance watches as the camp comes under attack, and are one by one mowed down like grass with a hail of celestial bronze bullets. That technology is still in the beginning stages, it shouldn’t work so well yet.

The ground falls away again and he falls into Camp jupiter in much the same state. The legions have formed rank, and the demigods are fighting in cohesion. Lance watches as they are mowed down too.

"Battlestations! Stand your ground!” The preator, a middle aged woman named Reyna, calls out. “Battles-!” She’s shot down, and the legions fall apart.

Lance plummets again, and he almost expects to be back in Half Blood, but he isn’t. He’s dropped in the center of what looks to be an underground city. Strong power thrums throughout the city, and even they are being attacked like the two camps, though Lance can’t figure why. What does this place have to do with the gods?

Suddenly a figure appears, towering over the buildings. It’s a glowing form of a man with a hawk’s head, and a human floating in the center of it. That towering form attacks the enemy it faces with inhuman speed and strength. Lance is in awe.

When that towering form falls, so does Lance. 

This time he’s faced with a battle in front of a mansion at least eight floors tall made of grey stone. Some of the fighters don’t look right to Lance though. There’s one that passes by him dressed like someone from the civil war, even using a bayonet and rifle as a weapon. 

Ha falls again when the enemy forces their way past the doors, that open up to what looks almost like a hotel lobby.

He lands in Half Blood once again, and he realizes he’s stuck in a loop as Coran rushes by. _“Fall back!”_ He falls again. _“Battlestations!”_ And again. And again. So many people cut down like animals. So many people- _demigods_ \- dying.

Just like Lance.


	21. Apollo Appears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith view immediately after the fight with the manticore.

“Lance!” Hunk yells out as Keith catches Lance while he collapses. 

Lance doesn't look very good. Keith's no doctor, but he doubts the purple tinge to Lance's skin is healthy. Nor are the prominent purple veins snaking outward from the hole in Lance's shoulder when he removes his shirt and jacket. A hole so big he can almost see right through. Keith gags a little in his mouth but diligently takes Lance gently to the ground.

His breathing is ragged, wheezing and interrupted by body wracking coughs. Lance is sweaty too, shivering and whimpering. Keith grits his teeth as a particularly harsh cough rips through Lance’s chest. It makes Lance nearly fold in on himself, and when it’s gone he collapses back into Keith’s arms. 

Hunk uses a spare shirt from his pack to press onto the bleeding hole.

“This isn’t good, for more reasons than Lance dying.” Pidge says, her words cold but her voice thick with worry. She places a hand on Lance’s forehead but quickly rips it away with a hiss. “He’s boiling.”

“What do we do?” Hunk says, first looking at Lance and then up at Pidge with watery eyes. “Pidge, do you know if there’s a cure for a manticore sting?”

Pidge doesn’t answer, and when Keith looks up from the pinched face of the man in his arms, he gets his answer anyways. She’s chewing on her lip, a small bead of blood bubbling at one of her teeth. Her eyebrows are low, her eyes lower, and she’s fisting her shorts tightly in her small hands. Keith may not be the most knowledgeable when it comes to feelings, but he knows this look well. Pidge isn’t going to deliver very good news.

“There is none is there?” Keith says, voice barely above a whisper. Hunk claps a blood smeared hand over his mouth as he smothers a sob. 

“We don’t know.” Pidge says. 

“Don’t know what?” Shiro butts in, gentle but firm. He’s good at that, pushing his emotions away to focus on the task at hand instead. 

“We don’t know if there’s ever been a cure. The venom acts too fast for anyone to live long enough to discover if there is or not.” Pidge says, her voice wobbly and wet. Keith swallows and looks back at Lance’s face. His eyes beneath his eyelids keep shifting like he’s having a nightmare. 

"We can't just leave him to die!" Hunk yells, his eyes angry and filled with tears. He reaches forward to brush a lock of hair off of Lance's face. His large hands are shaking. Shiro takes over with pressing on the wound when Hunk’s shaking make Lance groan low in his throat.

"We won't Hunk. Maybe Allura will have an idea." Shiro says, laying a hand on Hunk's shoulder to comfort him. Shiro smiles, but there's a tightness in his lips that Keith can decipher as easily as he can wield a sword. Shiro is losing hope. Which means there isn't much hope left for Lance's odds of survival.

A harsh breeze hits them, cooling their heated skin.

Keith turns his face to the wind to cool his face and dry some of the tears threatening to fall. He must have gone crazy though because he swears he hears a voice in the breeze. He can't tell what it says, but he swears he heard it. Keith squeezes his eyes shut to refocus on the task at hand.

"How do we get a hold of Allura?" Keith asks, all business.

"Iris messages." Shiro replies, digging into his pack and drawing out a small handful of coins that look weird and shine a dim gold in the sunlight, as well as a bottle of water. Keith can't imagine why they would need those for this so called 'Iris message' but whatever. Maybe he's thirsty and wants to look at weird coins?

Shiro must have meant 'instant message'.

Now, Keith is in every right mind to think Shiro is going to pull out a phone. Until he just takes a handful of water and throws it in the air to create a rainbow. Then he tosses one of those gold coins into the rainbow and it _disappears._

_Into thin air._

"Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering. Show me Allura Altea at Camp Half Blood." Shiro says in a deep voice. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised, he’s seen weirder. Like the manticore, which apparently _does_ exist, alongside gods of an ancient polytheistic religion. He glances at Lance when he whimpers as Pidge takes charge of holding the wound close this time. He looks back up to see Allura shimmering in the mist. Her hair is immaculate and very thick, still that stark white. She looks relieved, and tired. 

“It’s good to hear from you all, I’ve been worried. I had a dream that- “ She stops and swallows before shaking her head and putting back on her stunning smile. “Well it doesn’t matter. How’s the quest going?”

“Allura, we would love to chat for a minute but we need your help.” Shiro says. 

“Oh?” Allura replies, her eyebrow raised.

“Do you know of any cure for a Manticore’s sting?” Pidge asks. Keith holds onto Lance tighter as he’s reminded of the situation they’re in. Allura’s face pales from her usual golden tan to a white almost as stark as her hair.

“Lance?” She says, merely a whisper.

“Allura do you? We don’t have much time, please.” Hunk says, tears running down his face. He tries to wipe them away but he just smears a line of Lance’s blood across his cheeks and nose. It looks ominously like Shiro’s nose scar.

“I can’t recall anything. My expertise is in the sea, not the sky. How is he?” Allura asks, her face twisted in regret and anguish, two emotions Keith knows like old friends. Shiro visibly swallows before he answers.

“He’s fading fast. What do we do?” 

“I don’t know. I will ask Coran and contact you if I discover anything helpful. Good luck.” Allura sees, and he watches as she raises and arm like she’s going to backhand someone, and then she disappears.

“Dammit, what now?” Pidge says. It’s telling of the dire circumstances when Shiro doesn’t tell her to watch her language. 

“I could probably be of assistance.” A voice says from behind Keith. He is startled so much that he drop Lance’s to the ground, grabs his knife and prepares to attack the intruder. Last time someone snuck up on them during this quest, it ended up with them being plopped in the middle of nowhere and then getting attacked by a giant Manticore. Which also ended up with Lance dying in his arms slowly.

He doesn’t attack though, because he’s stunned by the sheer beauty of the man before.

Blonde hair like grains of wheat, skin that almost seems to glow with the sun. His eyes are a molten gold and his smile is blinding. He’s wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a yellow t-shirt with a symbol of a lyre on it. He’s tall, and muscular, and on his head sits a laurel wreath. Keith may not know much about the gods, but Apollo seems to be advertising his existence. 

“Lord Apollo,” Shiro greets, unusually formal. He looks like he wants to say more but he doesn’t. Apollo smiles again, and then looks at each of them before landing on Lance. His smile turns a little sad.

“Oh child,” Apollo says. “A manticore sting, that’s rough.”

Keith swallows, because he’s in the presence of a literal god, and the doubts he may have had before are fading fast. Apollo steps off his car, a red sports car, top down, with sunlight instead of exhaust coming from it’s rear end. 

“Can you heal him?” Keith asks, and he feels Pidge pinch him in the side.

Apollo purses his lips, looks Keith up and down once and then cocks his left eyebrow. Keith can’t explain why, but he feels his ears get hot like they do sometimes around pretty guys.

“No, but I can help.” Apollo says. He moves over to Lance and kneels down. He’s quiet a moment as he peels the blood soaked shirt away from the wound. Keith isn’t sure the sigh Apollo gives is good news. 

“Poor child. Dying in such an unsightly manner.” Apollo says. Keith feels himself puff up in anger. “Your journey doesn’t end here my friend, you have a long future ahead of you.”

“So you can save him?” Hunk says, sniffing.

“I can do no such thing.” Apollo says. “He must save himself. However, I can make that journey easier on his body.”

Apollo places his hand on the still bleeding hole in Lance’s shoulder, and there’s a brief flash of light. Then Apollo stands and shakes his bloody hand, magically making the blood disappear because of course he can. 

“That’s all that I can do without my father realizing I’ve intervened. It’s on him now whether he comes back or not.” Apollo says. “The wound is closed, but the poison lingers. However, I’ve weakened it, so if his will is strong enough, he will be fine.”

Apollo then promptly goes to his car to leave, until Pidge stops him.

“Why did you help if Zeus doesn’t want you to?” She asks. Apollo pauses with one foot in the car but doesn’t answer, so she continues. “Is it because he’s your son?”

“I helped,” Apollo says, his voice tense with distaste. “Because what my father is putting him through is wrong. Every child deserves to know their family, especially someone as special as Lance.”

“Then why not just tell him, or claim him?” Hunk asks. Apollo’s smile is gone now as he sits in his car and shuts the door. He revs the engine.

“Because he is not ours to claim.” Apollo says. He then looks Hunk straight in the eyes with his blinding smile. “Yet, at least.”

“Wait,” Pidge asks. “What does that even mean?”

Apollo ignores her and drives off into the sky like he’s in the movie _Grease,_ at the ending, but with a far nicer ride. He leaves a heat wave in his wake and a lot of questions. The main one being-

“What the fuck just happened?” 

“Language Pidge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea how i was going to end this chapter so it sat almost finished in my drafts for like two weeks. lmao

**Author's Note:**

> Heyoo! Welcome to my latest story! A Percy Jackson universe story featuring the cast of Voltron: Legendary Defender. I hope everyone likes it! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Hasta La Later!


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